Perhaps
by HeRonFan
Summary: An incident forces Peggy Carter to acknowledge deeper feelings for Daniel than she thought she had.
1. Confrontations

**Perhaps**

Post S1 Ep.8. An incident forces Peggy Carter to acknowledge deeper feelings for Daniel than she thought.

_Disclaimer:_ I own nothing here. I make no profit. I just want a Season 2 and am filling the void left by that fantastic smile on Peggy after Daniel asked her for a drink/date.

oOo

Peggy Carter quietly accompanied her friend and colleague, Daniel Sousa, to his apartment. When exactly the order of that description had reversed for her, she could not pin point. Perhaps it was after she had explained her covert actions in clearing Howard Stark.

"Why didn't you come to us?" he had said. She wondered if he really meant, "Why didn't you come to me?" He didn't deserve the answer she gave him, not really. Of all her so-called colleagues, Daniel was the most open minded to her actually being an agent. He had defended her and she shot him down in her pride instead of acknowledging she had an ally, a like-minded person to work with. Had she confided in him, perhaps they wouldn't have disappointed each other in their secret dealings—hers for Howard, his…against her. She had forced him into such action. He was not to blame for any iciness in their relationship. She was. She had fences to mend.

He was good. She had to admit that. Not much got past Daniel Sousa, not even her and she respected that. She respected him.

Perhaps it was when she watched over him in the recovery room after being gassed by Dr. Ivchenko. Thankfully, his still manacled form had life in it; his chest rose and fell softly, blessedly evenly. And all the while she stole glances at those finely sculpted shoulders, the muscled neck at repose. He had a small birth mark on his right shoulder where it met his neck. Her lips pulled lightly to one side in contemplation of it as a target for… She shook her head. He was alive and whole. She concentrated on the fact that she was just grateful that this time there was a young, virile man who would regain consciousness and speak to her again. At least that's what the doctors had said. He would be fine, they thought.

So she gladly took her turn to sit with him and even waved off another agent to continue her vigil, wanting it to be her, needing it to be her that he would see when he woke. Would he see it as an apology for shutting him out? For shutting him down? Would sitting with him make up for Steve in the tiniest way? This time, she had the opportunity to sit with someone she cared about. She would let them know by her presence that they weren't alone when they woke. That's all. She hoped this act was not about Steve? She needed it not to be about Steve.

This time, she had the chance. This was about learning from past mistakes. Waiting had been a mistake.

Perhaps things began to change for her with how he looked at her when he realized that he had struck her in the gas induced psychotic state. The sincerely sickened look on his face said all, well, almost all—she had begun to hope.

Perhaps it was the fact that he kept his sense of humour under miserable circumstances, admitting to still wanting to kill Thompson. How could he know that was exactly she needed to hear? She could have kissed him for saying that. She really could have. She contained herself with a grin and a small laugh. Those wrist restraints could be taken off now. He was fine.

Perhaps.

Today had been another tough day on the job. Today was a day that demanded some thinking about her feelings for Daniel Sousa. Sousa and Agent Jack Thompson had been taken hostage among a group of patrons at their bank when they went to deposit their pay cheques during lunch. The men had not returned on time raising questions as to their whereabouts. City police sirens were the first indication that something was indeed wrong in the immediate area. Looking down from above, Peggy called the play by play on the street below to no one in particular, but everyone remaining joined her at the window, each trying to figure out exactly the source of the commotion. The police cars stopped all traffic from the two streets that cradled the corner bank. Their faces went blank, then white with realization. Then all rushed to the scene where their colleagues were in the middle of a holdup, and hostage taking, waving their federal agent credentials when stopped by NYPD.

Three tense hours of watching police negotiate with the hostages, was followed by the cacophony of a gunshot, glass shattering toward the street, and one disarmed gunman crashing to the ground outside the broken window. Police swarmed, agents, normally in the thick of things, had to hold back and let the locals do their jobs. A mayhem of shouts, screams, and then a reserved applause. But where were Daniel and Jack?

oOo

The bank manager, Paul Normand, had a perfect view from his second floor office. The bank was an open to below, two floor absolute spectacle to the eye. The style was chosen to be impressive and insinuate strength and stability after the myriad of bank failures just over 15 years earlier. Regular daily banking was done on the first floor. But investments, loans, etc. were carried out on the second floor that almost circled the first with opulent staircase to the left and a balustrade overlooking the regular little guy business below.

The week almost done, Paul was looking forward to a game of billiards over a glass of bourbon with his investment bankers at Ernie's Bar before heading home for the weekend. He stretched his tired back and looked up, admiring the beautiful craftsmanship of the ceiling and the central light fixture, designed to look like a peacock, each of its eyed tails whisping their way toward the ceiling. It was an impressive sight to behold, he thought. He reminded his tellers of their symbol and to hold high its ideal of proud service and proper discretion to their customers.

Paul Normand was always on alert for anything out of the ordinary. He was proud of that. Some would call him rigid. He preferred to call it being prepared. When an unshaven man, about 30 walked into the bank and stopped to look around instead of going directly to a counter to begin regular business, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He watched the man. Attired in green work pants and a blue, tieless shirt; he was not their regular clientele, not at this location. His location tended to serve white collar customers; this was the Financial District after all. He immediately grabbed his phone and dialed the first 4 of the 5 numbers to the local police, leaving his finger in the last hole of the dial, suddenly grateful that _his_ telephone actually had a dial and he didn't have to go through the operator to request a number like he did at home. There were some perks to the job.

The blue shirted man skipped the line and went directly to a teller, which angered those who stood waiting their turn patiently, one of whom, a young man in his mid to late 20s sporting a crutch. Normand's finger rotated the last number to the dial hook, held it a moment until he saw his teller raise his hands. Normand released the dial and he was connected directly to the police department. He ducked under his desk to speak as quietly as possible.

"NYPD. What is the nature of your call?"

"Bank robbery in progress…" he quickly supplied the address, his name and position in the bank.

Suddenly, there was an intense murmur below on the ground floor and patrons had their hands in the air, including that poor man, probably a vet, by the looks of him, he thought.

The next five minutes seemed to pass in a haze for Paul Normand. The gunman had ordered everyone to the floor, and for those on the second floor to join everyone on the first level, in a seated position against the inner walls, backs to the gunman. Two tellers were filling a duffle bag with all the floats from each wicket. He didn't seem to bother about the vault, thankfully. This was meant to be a quick cash grab.

But everything changed, and not necessarily for the better when the sirens began. The man, panicked now, was obviously in distress as his quick grab plan had gone awry. Hours now passed as the police negotiated with the man using a bullhorn.

"We can take this guy," Jack Thompson whispered to Daniel.

"Yeah," he agreed. "But we need him closer than where he is now, or someone here could be killed. We need him to tire a bit and make a mistake. We need to close the distance. This guy is desperate, not like the type of guy we usually deal with." And so they waited him out, waiting for the opportune time to make their move with a minimum number of casualties. This was not a regular job, this was a public building. Neither Daniel nor Jack had ever operated where at least 30 civilians could be hurt as a result of their actions, post-war.

Hours passed.

"You!" the gunman said, pointing his handgun at directly at Sousa's head.

Daniel looked up, concerned and alert. "Me, sir?" he said trying to give him the respect the man thought he deserved.

"Yeah! Get the fuck up! You're gonna be my mouthpiece," he commanded.

Daniel made a show of awkwardly fumbling for his crutch. As he turned his back on the gunman a moment, he and Thompson made eye contact. Daniel winked. Thompson steeled himself to be at the ready and slowly shifted his legs into a lunging position as Daniel attempted to focus the man's vision away from Thompson's prepping. Daniel hoisted himself up with as much fake difficulty as he thought was believable.

"Sorry, I'm not used to getting up from the floor. It's more difficult than from a chair," he said. The comment was true, but Sousa had slipped on the floor or in the shower enough in the early months of recuperation to have mastered his rise without this much distress. He smirked to himself as Jack looked genuinely concerned. Sousa turned around ready to face the thief turned hostage taker, pretending to be huffing more than usual. Thompson's head quirked slightly to the side as he assessed his colleague's state and determined quickly that Sousa was faking it. He laughed inwardly, and not without a little admiration. He was damned sure that he would not be as decent a fellow as Sousa was…is, were their situations reversed.

The gunman motioned with the shaking handgun at Sousa to move towards the tall glass floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the street, just to the right of the main entrance. It was deathly quiet out there, save for the efforts of the NYPD to engage the man in conversation. Traffic had been halted and barricades in place using police cars.

As they approached the window, there was only one way for Daniel to move to disarm the man due to the high customer counters to fill out deposit and withdrawal forms.

oOo

Peggy's breath caught in her chest as she saw Daniel move to the front of the bank from where she stood behind the blue US Mail box diagonally across the street. Her heart began to race, her palms sweaty with fear for him. She gripped her gun harder and great determination brought the firearm up over her protective shield and aimed for the gunman. She was a damn good shot. She had a bead. She pulled back the hammer and…

oOo

Sousa, once he was at the right angle, elbowed the man twice in the face in a lightning fast act, grabbed for the gun, pushing it upwards and it went off. Glass shattered to the ground, as Sousa disarmed him and threw the man out onto the sidewalk like he was yesterday's trash, unholstering his gun all in the same action. Thompson sprung to assist but found it was not necessary. He was beside his friend immediately as the spread of guns were aimed at them as well as the gunman before the police figured out there was just the one man to arrest. Customers streamed from the building, shaken and immediately covered in a blanket and brought to an emergency triage station set up for assessment.

Again, Sousa had been underestimated because of his war wound. Again he rose to the occasion without thinking anything of it.

Everyone came forward to check on them, clap both Thompson and Sousa on the back, and sometimes a manly, reserved hug was exchanged.

Peggy gripped Thompson's forearm, a curt nod between them that he was okay, was followed by Peggy quickly patting his arm. "I'm glad you're alright. Really glad," she said with a tight lipped, worried face. That had to be satisfactory. She had only just begun to be accepted as an agent. To give one a comforting hug, at this point, might undermine her new status.

"I'm good, Carter." He covered her hand with his a moment, thankful for the concern.

She turned to Daniel, looking him over. "And you?" she said, looking him over. She leaned in a little to grab his forearm too, trying not to betray the higher degree of apprehension she was feeling for him over her other colleague. Her hand landed on his wrist, closer to actually holding his hand. "You had us worried when we could see you in the window, then the gunshot…" She could not finish as her stomach seemed to reach up through her throat and grip her vocal chords in a vice. Her lips pursed grimly together as she held new intense emotions in check.

"I'm alright, Carter. Thanks for the concern." He shifted his hand a bit, so that he held her hand for the briefest of moments.

She nodded, tight lipped, squeezed his hand and let go, reluctantly.

All witnesses, including Daniel and Jack had to give statements. Daniel was interrupted frequently by fellow hostages coming over to thank and congratulate him, much to his embarrassment. But he was happy at their relief.

"A drink, I could really use one now," Sousa said. "That and a bathroom," he said to no one in particular.

"Shit, yeah, agreed on both points" breathed Thompson. "Sorry, Carter," he apologized for his profanity.

"If you'll excuse me?" the bank manager had made his way over earlier unnoticed and interrupted them. "There's a nice little bar, err…pub," he added having noted Peggy's accent, "Just down the way four blocks, _Ernie's_. I have a tab there. The first two rounds for all of you are on me. A small token of my sincere gratitude. Thank you, young man," he said to Daniel while extending his hand warmly.

"Sousa, Daniel Sousa," he supplied as he shook the man's hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Sousa. You are an impressive young man. Thank you. Things could have been so much worse. Here, take my card. I'll call ahead to Ernie's to expect you and add your drinks to my tab as soon as you hand him the card."

"This really isn't necessary," Daniel began, when Thompson interrupted and grabbed the card.

"Sure it isn't necessary, but it is very kind of you and we'll take you up on your offer gladly. It might help us sleep tonight."

"Okay," Daniel relented, nodding gratefully and rather sheepishly.

"You gotta learn to take credit where credit is due, Sousa!" Jack said. Daniel and Peggy exchanged a look. _Some people never change_.

They all went out, Peggy included. She noted Daniel was quieter than usual. After a few rounds, the group began to break up and call it a night. Thompson was driven home by another agent.

Peggy turned to Daniel. "Do you have a ride?"

"I'll grab a cab, thanks."

"Don't be absurd. After such a day, you're getting an escort home and I won't take no for an answer. Understood?

A look crossed his features that said he wasn't about to tangle with Carter when she was determined. "Yes, ma'am," he said and saluted petulantly as she was treating him.

Peggy made a disdainful look. "Alright, I deserved that. But seriously," she said more amenably, "I would feel much better if I knew you were home safe and sound."

"Alright, thank you. That would be nice. Where are you parked?"

She gestured to her right, loving that he assumed automatically that she had her own car. As they began walking a radio broadcast made its way to their ears from the open door of a shop.

"Damn!" said Daniel.

"What?!"

"I had tickets to that game. Completely forgot! Listen a minute." DiMaggio hit a homerun and the crowd was screaming hysterically. The look on Daniel's face was at once elated and sorrowful that he was missing a great game. "The Yankees are kicking the Cardinals butts! It would have been so good to be there."

"Well, you could still go. How far along is it? What period is it in?"

"Pardon me?"

"What per…i…od? Um, no?"

"No."

"Quarter?"

"Try again," he offered patiently.

"Hmmm…Inning?"

"Bingo! We have a winner!"

"Oh, stop. You're having a go at me!" she said embarrassed. "So, American sports have not been high on my list priorities to learn about," she admitted.

"I thought you said if you want to understand a place, you have to get to know its people, its real people."

"Yes, that does sound like me. But I tend to go to the market, or the rifle range."

He burst out laughing and shook his head. "You mean to tell me, you've never been to a baseball game?"

"Well, when you were in England before D-Day, did you ever go to a cricket or football match?" she said defensively.

"You just dodged my question. This is about you, English," he teased. "Now, answer the question."

"Are you interrogating me, Agent Sousa?"

"No. Daniel is asking his friend, Peggy, a simple question which, by the way, she is avoiding like the plague. So I am going to have to assume the answer is a resounding NO!"

"Well, you're… not incorrect."

He laughed and they continued on. "Why not?"

"What?"

"Why not?"

"Well, I suppose I just was never interested."

"But your head turned pretty quick when you heard the play by play back there, not just mine," he stopped. He eyed her in an assessing manner. "You have no idea what the game is about, do you?"

She opened her mouth to reject his assumption, and then found herself admitting to it. "Not really, no. Never wanted to go and divulge my ignorance. It's a bit embarrassing."

He laughed and shook his head. "All right, Peggy Carter, next Saturday I'm taking my nephew to the Yankees game. He's five years old. I'll be explaining lots of things to him during the game and you, my friend," he hated calling her that, "can listen in and begin to understand the Great American Pastime. Plus you gotta see Joltin' Joe DiMaggio _at least_ once in your life."

"All right," she smiled, happy to see him animated for the first time tonight. A moment later they arrived at her car and she unlocked the passenger door. "I'll put it in my calendar. Now, get in."

"Yes, ma'am!" he teased.

"Shut it!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he said with an evil grin.

She stuck her tongue out at him in a very unlady-like manner. They both burst out laughing as they got into the car and drove off towards his apartment.


	2. In Vino Veritas

Chapter 2

They took the elevator to his fourth floor apartment. As the doors opened he turned to her. "Look, I'm here. You can relax now. I'm fine."

"I believe you are still in an elevator. Right to the door, my friend. I do believe if the situation were reversed you would make sure I got to my door, safe and sound after such a day."

_Friend._ They'd each said it so often tonight. She wondered if they had started to believe it. Had they repaired what they had begun to build and chinked away at? Were they trying to convince themselves that's all they were to each other? Was it all?

He opened his mouth to object, but shut it quickly and made a face to indicate she was right. He shook his head, and said, "Fine." _If you actually let anyone close enough to care._ They exited the elevator, the door quickly closing behind on its way to another floor. She walked him to his door.

Feeling more than a little awkward, he fumbled for his keys in his coat pocket and unlocked the door. Totally unsure what to say to her, he turned, wondering if he should invite her in or say good-bye. He had tried an invitation to her once before and been shot down.

"I'm home, and I'm okay. Thank you, Peggy. It's _actually_ really nice to have someone care enough to do this."

She nodded, turning a little pale, he thought.

"You alright, Peg?"

She nodded again. "Yes, I'm fine. Just…relieved," she replied after searching a moment for the right word to use.

"Me too," he quipped with a grin.

"I –ah- should be going, then."

"Yeah. Um, I'm glad you came out for that drink," he ventured, trying to extend the moment.

Her face dropped a little. That drink. He just moved it into the group situation instead of a drink for two. "Me too," she quickly recovered her disappointment. "Good night, Ag…Daniel," she attempted with a degree of humility, but looking him straight in the eye. Perhaps, using his given name might lead him to conclude she came out for him, not both he and Thompson. A slight blush crossed her cheeks. _Dammit, Peg! Since when have you had any trouble speaking to men_? Suddenly, Steve Rogers swept over her mind, and she had to concentrate on taking a proper breath before she smiled and turned towards the elevator.

"'Night, Peg," he said and closed the door. Immediately, he felt empty, and missed the tension filled, awkward feeling that was passing between them barely a moment before. He turned around, leaning against the door a brief moment, looking inwards at his bachelor apartment which seemed so empty. There was a fairly decent amount of light coming from the May setting sun but he groped for the light switch on the wall to his right. The apartment was illuminated from the hall light just ahead of him, but he felt all the light in the world was outside in his hallway. He took off his blazer and hung it up on the hook instead of in the closet, pulling his tie from the pocket and draping it across the top. He pursed his lips unsatisfied. His stomach told him with a strange sense that if he didn't try now, he might never. His hand formed a fist and he hit the wall lightly with its side as he made his decision to act, despite her prior dismissal of him. He turned around quickly, trying to beat the elevator's return, to invite her in, or ask her to go out for a coffee, or…_something_. He ripped open the door only to have the look of shock take over his features. He felt like all the blood just drained from his face as Peggy Carter was caught stop-motion, about to knock on his door.

"I…I don't feel right leaving you, yet," she stammered briefly before recovering her determined voice. 'I know I would like company for a while, after such an ordeal," she tried to explain. She thought of how everyone left her alone after Steve died. They were trying to give her space, and she appreciated it. Yet it simultaneously reinforced how lonely she was.

Daniel smiled, almost laughing at their being on the same wavelength. "I'd like that too. Uh, did you want to go out for coffee, or another drink?"

"No. A walk might be nice, but it is getting chilly. Would it be too forward for you to invite me in for a bit?" She could hear Ms. Fry going ballistic in the back of her mind with that question.

He laughed. "As long as you don't tell Ms. Fry on me, I'm good with that!" he quipped.

She laughed. A real laugh that was reflected in her eyes. "I was just thinking the same thing!"

He stepped aside for her to come in. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to her jacket.

"Yes, please," she replied as she shrugged the bright blue garment from her shoulders and waited for him to take the rest. He opened up one of the long hallway closets and found a hanger, easily. The bachelor apartment had come with a myriad of wire hangers much to his surprise, but mild sense of relief at the convenience. It also came with a set of dishes and pots and pans. The furniture he chose to find himself when he moved to New York.

Peggy's eyes swept the apartment quickly as she walked forward. From the doorway was a long main hall about 10 feet long directly in front of her. It felt a little like a bowling alley. On the right, about three feet from the doorway was a small adjacent hall, deep enough to house two small single closets on either side, before culminating in a white and black tiled bathroom. Down the left side of the main hall were two sets of large double closets, the first where Daniel had put her jacket. She moved forward to the end of the hall to discover a fairly good size living room and to the right a dinette area, L shaped pattern. From the dinette, an interior kitchen making a u-pattern if you included that prep room. Directly across from the entry were sliding double doors to a balcony, framed by two half-length windows on either side.

"This is lovely, Daniel."

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way, but really; it's all I need at the moment. Sometimes, it's more than I need. I don't eat supper here much, mostly breakfast. Speaking of which, sorry for the mess in the kitchen. I wasn't expecting company."

She looked in, noticing breakfast dishes for probably three days now, in the sink.

"I usually wait until I've got about 5 days' worth before standing at the sink to do them. My personal indulgence."

"Understandable. I see you have another," she said observing the wine rack in the dinette.

"Oh. Yeah," he said enthusiastically. "I do like wine. Usually buy two or three bottles every other Friday night on the way home from work. Sorta slowly starting a cellar selection. Payday indulgence. Drink one during the week. Sometimes two, I admit if I've got a good Perry Mason book on the go, or I'm home and Lux Theatre is particularly good."

"Your collection will be short this week, then. Perhaps tomorrow you can replenish."

"Oh! Where are my manners? Would you care to have a glass, Peg?"

"And break into your collection?"

"It's the kind of collection that is _meant _to be broken into in my opinion. Red or white?"

"Um, I like both, but prefer red.

"Ah! A girl after my own heart," he said without thinking.

Peg's eyebrows rose ever so quickly, unnoticed by Daniel as he bent to select a favourite, a blush creeping up his neck after realizing what he said. He turned to the kitchen, retrieved a corkscrew and two wine glasses and returned to the dinette table.

"You're well supplied for a bachelor," she observed as he began opening the wine.

"Thanks. But I can't take the credit. The apartment came with the curtains there, a set of dishes, cooking things, and hangers…lots of hangers," he said eyes widening at the thought. "I bought the living room furniture, record player and dinette, although sometimes I wonder why the dinette."

She laughed softly at his incredulous tone over hangers and watched him pour the wine, anticipating a fine vintage. He handed her the glass. He wanted to let the bottle breathe as he had been taught, but that might make the situation awkward and he didn't want to appear snooty.

"Hope you like it. Bottoms up."

She smiled. "I'm sure I will, I haven't met one yet that I don't, actually." She moved to clink their glasses together in a toast and took a chance. "Here's to finally having that drink _together_," she said softly. And if he didn't know any better, he would have said seductively.

_It must be my imagination. It must be my…Or is it?_

He froze a moment, their eyes meeting, heat suddenly rising between them. They moved their glasses apart slowly and toward their mouths, neither taking their eyes off each other's lips.

"Hmm. It is lovely, Daniel. A fine choice." He watched her tongue softly dart out to take in any excess that might have remained on her very… distracting… scarlet… red… lips.

He recovered from staring at her quickly. "Well, I know you've just had bourbon, this wine wouldn't fight with that aftertaste."

"What do you mean?" she said intrigued.

"Well, when I was in France, we had a few days furlough once. We met some locals who had purchased wine from northern France, the Loire Valley. They showed us their cellar, uh…_after_ we built up a little trust. One night they did a tasting, actually it was the black market salesman who obviously wished for earlier times and their profession to be above board. You know, not hiding their good stuff from the occupying Nazis." He paused as the memories flooded his vision. She smiled at one of the many forms of French resistance.

He snapped back to reality and realized they were still standing at the dinette table. "Why don't we take this to the couch?" His head motioned towards the more comfortable setting and Peg readily agreed, grabbing the wine bottle to take with them, placing it on the dark oak coffee table as they both sat down facing each other. Without his having to say anything, she deliberately took the end so that his wounded leg could extend out comfortably. He nodded, acknowledging her thoughtfulness and they continued the conversation.

"Go on," she encouraged, totally interested in his story.

"He taught me quite a bit about wines, what to look for in the glass as you swirl it, not just the mechanics of it you know, but the colour, flavour mixtures, the smell, why certain wines tasted better with certain foods." He smiled at the memory. "It was so…" he stopped and searched for the right words to convey how much this little bit of civility could pull a man from the brink of losing it to the barbaric side of humanity. "…normal, decadent in a way, but…soul saving. Those small moments you're fighting to resurrect. Fighting to save humanity; there's so much irony in that statement, it makes me cringe." He looked at her, wondering if she would understand or just think he was crazy.

She reached for his hand and held it a moment. "I understand this completely. For me, it was listening to big band music."

He quirked an eyebrow, indicating his interest in her continuing. "Big band? Did you jitterbug when you were a young girl, Peg?"

She blushed, and took another sip of wine.

"You did!" he jumped on that tiny bit of information with enthusiasm. He sat more attentively.

"Fine! My father was transferred to Washington for a year, charged with trying to convince Senators to lower protective tariffs and open up trade during the Depression. I came too, attended school here during that time and," her eyes went far away for a moment, "I simply fell in love with swing music. I loved—still love—Glen Miller, Tommy Dorsey…"

"Artie Shaw?"

"Artie Shaw," she nodded, "and Benny Goodman. I travelled light whenever I was sent somewhere during the war, with the exception of one thing; I brought my record player to listen to at night before bed." Daniel was watching her intently as he listened to her. Slowly, he saw a younger, fun loving Peggy Carter emerge from the serious agent for a brief moment.

"I dreamed of going dancing," she sighed.

"Dreamed? Peg, you could have any man dance with you at the snap of your fingers," he said not understanding yet.

"It was something I gave up as I was trying to be taken seriously as an agent. There were few pubs in walking distance and I didn't want anyone to see me dancing and think I was just like any other dilly." _(slang for cute girl)_

"Somehow, I don't think that was a real worry."

She guffawed. "Speak for yourself. This is a man's world I was trying to fit into." She sighed. "But I couldn't be less than I am in my work, not for anyone," she looked at him directly to gauge his reaction. He simply nodded in agreement.

Encouraged by this she continued. "Soooo, I dreamed. Dancing would be my reward if I made it through. When I took that carefree step, the war would be over—not just listening to the music each night. It turned out to be _monumentally stupid_," she said with a slight hint of bitterness, "to save dancing for the end." She was taken to another world for a moment and then returned Daniel's gaze. "Well, that was my indulgence to get me through." She raised her glass in a mock toast to herself, but didn't drink.

"Well, did you go dancing when it was all over?"

Peggy looked sad a moment. "No. It seemed pointless by that time. And I didn't feel like it."

Now, he knew. She was mourning Steve Rogers by then.

Her finger traced the rim of her wine glass absentmindedly. "You know how you pray for something terrible to just be over. If it was over then everything would be okay. And then when it is, you realize how naïve you are, how much everything has changed, how much loss you've gone through. Nothing can go back to what you wished for, hoped for, …dreamed for. Dancing was too indulgent. The idea became too much of a reminder. It was stupid, I know," she said trying to make light of it.

"It doesn't have to be, Peg. Dancing could be your way of thumbing your nose at it all. It could be about survival, perhaps even more meaningful than a Medal of Honour, or a Purple Heart," he said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

She stared at him, realizing he had earned both or he wouldn't have mentioned them. He had obviously experienced a whole lot of loss in the process too.

He finished his wine in one gulp and stood up and went to his record player, just under the window that was to the left of the glass double sliding doors to the balcony. She watched in silence. He fished through the albums on the shelf next to it. A moment later, Glen Miller's "In the Mood" was coming from the speaker. She quickly gulped the remainder of her wine as he moved the coffee table aside without tipping the half full bottle, unassisted and with practised ease.

Daniel limped toward to her, leaning slightly against the wall for some support after the exertion, and extended his other hand to her. The crutch remained beside his end of the couch where he had been sitting. "May I have this dance, ma'am?"

It wasn't a slow song. It was not what she dreamed about. It was not who she had dreamed about. He wasn't… _the right partner_.

He was a compassionate partner. He was a moral partner. And damn, he was a sexy partner, even if he wasn't the dream she had kept alive for so long. Somehow, it was okay.

Her chest compressed with a fear that was both logical and illogical.

_What if he turns out to be… a very good partner? What if this is taking another step to giving up the dream and embracing reality? This might debunk my theory that reality cannot compare to the dream. Could this man make me re-evaluated everything? Am I ready to? Damn, I want to._

Daniel watch a myriad of emotions cross her face while she stared at his hand. He had never seen Peggy Carter innocent and uncertain. He swallowed and kept his hand extended, _hoping_.

Tears pressed in on her eyes, but she held them at bay. Gingerly, she reached to place her hand in his and stood up to dance with him. She was shaking inside. They were slightly awkward at first, but she began to relax and sink into the music. Together, they learned what they could do.

He moved mostly from the waist up, once in a while leaning painfully on his prosthetic to pivot here and there, but mostly he placed his weight on his good foot, as she moved to the music and twirled under his raised arm only to be pulled back into his embrace as often as he spun her away. She always stepped back to him, or circled around him. A smile appeared on her face that was matched by his own. He slowly manoeuvred them close to the wall at the opening to the hallway. He lifted her in the air, the way he used to do when he was younger and whole too, and as she came down, he shifted her to his left and swung her through, legs in the air with one arm as he braced the corner of the wall for added support with the other. It was lopsided. It was goofy. But both were smiling and even giggling a little at their attempt. But they had made the attempt. When the music ended, they naturally came together for an embrace, and laughed in each other's necks. Each had overcome a hurdle together and tears finally spilled from Peggy's eyes, Daniel did his damnedest to not cry too. A moment later they pulled back and stared at each other.

The next song was the slow "Moonlight Serenade". Daniel looked at her tear tracked cheeks with concern, his hand coming up to caress her shoulder. "Uh, I thought it would help, not make you cry," he said apologetically. He wanted to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but that was an action that betrayed more than their current relationship would allow.

"Good tears," she wiped her eyes. "Good tears, I promise. That was wonderful, Daniel!" She said as she flung her arms around him. "Oh, my heavens! I didn't know I could feel that good again. Thank you; it really was just what I needed. Someone I trust to encourage me to take those scary steps back into real living again." She released him slightly to look at him. "You're…a… wonderful partner, Daniel."

He smiled, wondering if her words had other meanings in them that he wasn't meant to understand. "I owe you an apology. You come across so confident. You're not someone that I thought of as needing encouragement to do anything."

"Well, we all have weak points, I suppose. Some are hidden better than others."

"Touché," he said softly.

Not willing to let her go yet, he looked up as if he could see the slow music coming from the record player and gestured to another dance with her. He received a soft, blush-filled smile that could stop a clock. His anyway.

And she accepted.

This time they held each other close as they slowly moved to the sultry soft horns and clarinet. Everything began to change. They felt their bodies meld together, each feeling and anticipating the other's movements, each seeking closeness until the rising heat between them was undeniable and demanded an answer to the silent screaming of their bodies. Daniel breathed in her light perfume and before he realized what he was doing, he planted soft, feather light kisses on her neck, under her ear. He felt her shiver in response. She did not move out of his embrace. Instead, he felt her breathing halt in expectation of more as she tilted her head for easier contact, exposing her neck to him. He nibbled below her ear, causing her to exhale audibly, her chest pushing into him as her breathing quickened.

Suddenly, she pulled back and looked at him, her face utterly flushed with desire. It was unmistakable. It was infective. It was magnetic. Barely a second passed between them before their mouths crashed into each other, tongues desperately seeking entrance. Hands lost their proper positioning of the slow dance and began seeking more of the other. They gripped each other bordering on the frantic, not wanting this moment to end as propriety would dictate it should and that she should leave.

Leave.

Finally stopping, they bowed their heads together, still needing more contact than their arms around each other. Breathing was rough and ragged, trying to catch up with what their lungs demanded. Her hand came up to caress his cheek. Propriety…I must act proper. "I…should probably go." She swallowed, but continued to hold him tightly. Then she kissed him again.

The word probably said it all for him. She didn't want to. She wanted to stay. "I want you to stay. You can have the couch, I'll sleep in the chair. I just…I don't want to let go right now. I promise; I'll behave."

"Then we definitely have a problem, Daniel. I can't promise that."

Daniel would have needed the strength of Thor to stop the grin that spread across his face.

_A/N: I think I'll have to re-watch the beginning of Agent Carter. The ABC website says Daniel has an injured leg resulting in a permanent limp, not a prosthetic. I've read so many fics that say he has a prosthetic that I took that for granted. _

_This is a naturally good place to end this fic. But I do have ideas for a little more. We'll see._


	3. To Stay or Not to Stay

**Chapter 3**

**To stay, or not to stay….that is the question**

**Disclaimer**—Not my property, not my profit (there is none). But it is my idea to continue on with their story even if TPTB have not figured out what a great thing they have here.

oOo

**A/N: **I seriously toyed with leaving this story off where it was—ending on a fun note, open ended for each reader to decide for themselves whether or not they slept together. This is why it has taken me so long to decide to add to it. But, they each should have issues and it wouldn't be me to leave them unaddressed. I love issues—when they are other people's, that is. ;-)

oOo

"Oh, don't be crude. Get that grin off your face, Daniel!"

He laughed. "What grin?!" he said playfully, innocently. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You know very well, and suddenly I'm feeling a lot of willpower to resist you," she teased.

He smirked smugly and kissed her soundly, demonstrating he could break through that if he wanted to, easily. He felt her body inhale him in response and was content with knowing she was in as deep as he was at this moment. Shifting slightly he was reminded of his prosthetic and knew he had to slow this down. Past experience had already told him this. He sighed and released her, taking her hand and kissing it rather gallantly. "Come on," he said softly, not pushing, "let's just enjoy that bottle of wine," he suggested.

She took a deep calming breath, nodded in agreement and followed this new course with a bit of relief. Peggy retrieved her wine glass and held it out for him to replenish. "You can't fly on one wing," she said.

He smiled. "Oh, I don't know about that. I thought we were doing pretty good," he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice and quick eye brow rise. Again, he was rewarded with a blush.

They moved back to the couch, but this time she sat nestled into him under the crook of his arm. They continued to discuss war stories and bits of their younger years. Slowly beginning to understand what made each other tick.

After a while, she took a deep sad breath and sat up. "I really should go."

Daniel looked at his watch. Ten thirty. "Do you have any place to be tomorrow morning?" She shook her head. "Well, I told you, you can have the couch, it's a hide-a-bed. I'll sleep in the chair. I meant it." At her frown, he added, "It's better than the ground in France, believe me." His hand was then caressing her cheek. He shook his head slightly in mild astonishment, "I could talk with you all night, Peg."

_With you—not to you, not at you._

_With you._

_With._

And that was it. He wanted to hear her thoughts on everything, her experiences, whatever she was willing to share, her feelings. This was a man who appreciated the person in front of him. She knew that already about him if she were honest with herself, but his actions and words kept reassuring her that this was a safe, respectful man in every way imaginable. Not a saint, just a really good man.

She gulped, almost audibly, trying to keep her want in check. "But, what would I wear? I can't wear my dress to bed."

"Agreed, no dress," he said with a mischievous grin.

She swatted him, and he made an over exaggerated reaction to the playful hit. He laughed. "I'll find you something," he said and gave her a quick kiss before he got up to go to the two closets that lead to the bathroom. In the left closet was a short 3 drawer dresser. "Uh, did you want one of my shirts, or…" He opened a drawer and retrieved his gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He found his newly cleaned black exercise shorts in another. He usually wore them himself, or just his underwear which tonight would be out of the question, he thought looking down at his prosthetic. He took a deep breath and decided the appendage would stay on tonight, hidden. He really did mean that he would behave himself. If he got carried away, he knew all he'd have to do is move slightly and be reminded of the quickest reason she'd leave him.

_It's not like it hadn't happened before, after all. _

No vows had been spoken before he left for Europe. Turns out, it was better for her this way, he thought. The muscle in his neck flexed defiantly, keeping his hurt in check. He had kept Susan's image in his mind as he woke from the amputation. Kept her wrinkled black and white picture with him each night like the good luck charm he felt it was after the horrors of Omaha Beach, hoping it wouldn't make a difference when he returned. And then…

A wave of anxiety hit him. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Peg is a strong woman. If anyone could handle this, it was her. But if she wasn't… Then he was happy with one night of having someone close, just holding her hand, and if _he let himself dare dream_—holding her in his arms.

Just being held in return.

It had been so long.

Peggy came up behind him, noting a change in his demeanor. "Darling, are you having second thoughts about my staying?"

A slight blush appeared on his face at her term of endearment. _Darling._ She couldn't have said anything better to him at that moment. She cared. She was concerned for him. _Damn. That's a nice feeling to have again._ "No! No. Just… a lot of memories were stirred up. Things… I hadn't thought of in a while. People who come into your life and…"

"Are you alright?" her hand coming up to caress his back.

He smiled, looking directly at her a moment before replying. "Better than alright," he said softly, genuinely and leaned in to kiss her cheek quickly. He cleared his throat. "Okay, what would you prefer, my shirt…and you can tease me with those gorgeous gams as you walk about the apartment, or…I got shorts, undershirts..." He continued rummaging, trying to find anything that would be suitable for her. "Laundry was just done yesterday. Didn't realize how convenient choosing Thursday for laundry service was going to be," he said rather proud of himself.

"Do the shorts have a draw string?"

"Yep."

"I'll take those and a long buttoned shirt, please." He handed her the black shorts and one of his less dressy white cotton shirts that he wore on weekends. "Thank you," she said and disappeared into the bathroom with a magnificent smile for him as she closed the door.

"Peg?" he called.

"Yes," she said reopening the door between them.

"That smile could light up a Christmas tree," he said incredulously. _It certainly lights up my heart_. He never saw her smile like that at the office. He realized again how reserved she had to be in front of all the men. He noticed and thought she should know.

And Margaret Carter blushed like a school girl before closing the door again to change happily for the night.

Meanwhile, he went quickly and joyfully to the couch and began dismantling the cushions, and pulled out the hidden bed from inside. He placed most of the cushions in the closest long closet and took out pillows and the fresh set of sheets. He turned toward the makeshift bed, linens in one hand, crutch in the other. The bathroom door opened behind him. He turned to see Peggy coming towards him, long legs terminating in bright red toe nails beckoning his eyes. The shirt was open at the neck, making a plunging neckline that drew his eyes there as well. He was speechless, not knowing where to look, and suddenly unable to properly coordinate the shaking out of the fitted sheet. Peggy placed her dress in the front hall closet with her jacket proceeded to join him in making up the bed blushing herself a little, all the while fully enjoying the effect she had on him.

"Does this feel strange?" she said after a moment.

"No….and yes," he replied. "…Err, which part?" he backtracked as he caught a glimpse of his shorts underneath the shirt when she bent to retrieve a pillow case.

"I feel so comfortable with you, like this is normal. That was a bit pushy, wasn't it?" She laughed awkwardly as she looked down at her attire. "This part," she gestured to the bed making, "well, no, not normal at all." She made a face.

"No?" he said amused.

"Well, I _thought_ if I was going to spend the night with a man, or in his apartment at least, I would be attired much more… shall we say elegantly. Make the effort, you know." She paused a moment. "Hope you don't mind?"

"Mind? You'd look elegant in a paper bag, Peg. You look effortless. Wait, did that come out right?" She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly amused at him. "What I meant was," he said as he walked over to her and took her in his arms, "is that you are so naturally beautiful that you don't need to put in any effort to look beautiful."

_Damn, he is sweet._ _He can melt my butter in a heartbeat_.

"I'll…take…that," she said punctuating each word with a tender but mildly teasing kiss. "You'd…be worth the effort," she said gently. Before she knew it her hands glided up over his shoulders and pulled him close for a long sensuous kiss. He responded immediately, pulling her even closer by her tiny waist. Barely a second in each other's arms and their bodies were responding to one another.

"The effort would not go unnoticed," he whispered softly in her ear.

Peggy's heart began to sing. She was sure he could hear it. She blushed slightly and cleared her throat to indicate they needed to pull back. He complied without hesitation, but not without effort. A little nervous at how fast she was falling for him she worried her lower lip between her teeth and looked about for the second pillow case. Sensing her need to cool off, he found the pillow and they finished making up the bed together. Then, he retrieved one of the sofa cushions and placed it on top of the coffee table. He moved the chair so that it was facing the head of the bed and butted it up to the cushioned coffee table to make an elongated chaise. They applied a sheet to the makeshift bed and he covered it with an old sleeping bag opened up like a blanket. He hated being in them all zipped up and his leg situation would not have made that situation any more palatable. Now they would be able to speak to each other without craning their necks.

"Not bad, really," he said, pleased with his handiwork.

"I feel terrible that you're sleeping there."

"Who said I would be sleeping? I plan on talking all night, remember?" he said winking.

Peggy laughed and proceeded to the record selection and browsed while Glen Miller continued. "May I?"

"Knock yourself out. Choose whatever you want. I'll just go change too." He disappeared down the hallway and grabbed his chosen night clothes and went to the bathroom. He made use of the facilities, washed up, brushed his teeth and then stared at his leg a moment. He undressed and worked his grey sweatpants over his prosthetic, and then stared at his black socks on his foot and artificial leg. He'd have to wear them to hide the artificial foot. It would look weird otherwise. He swallowed hard. Sadness descended on him like a rain. Muscles tightened in his jawline, his head bowed low. He braced his arms on either side of the sink, knuckles turning white. Slowly, he raised his head and stared in the mirror. His heart began to race as sheen of perspiration covered him.

_She's not Sue. She's not Sue. She's not Sue. _

_She's strong. Peg is strong. She knows. She's known all along. _

_Knowing isn't seeing. _

_She's here isn't she? She can handle this. Be honest with yourself, dammit! The real question is: can you?_

He took several deep breaths and swallowed harshly, grabbed a towel and wiped at the layer of perspiration on his forehead and neck. Deciding it wasn't enough, he reached for a washcloth, wet and soaped it, took off his shirt and gave himself a quick wash-down to calm his nerves.

"Daniel?" Peg called. She was only going to ask if he had any tea, but he opened the door, shirtless and wearing gray sweatpants came out to see what the matter was. Her voice was stilled immediately. Her eyes took a walk all over him and she seemed to forget what she wanted. Or _perhaps,_ what she wanted changed as soon as she laid eyes on him.

"Peg?"

"You, uh…you didn't need to come out in the middle of... I was only curious if you had any tea. It could have waited," she said breathlessly, unable to break her stare.

He smiled, knowingly but grateful that the attraction between them seemed stronger than any worries he was having. He moved passed her to the kitchen to find her the tea. As he did so, he noticed her exhale a held breath. He blushed feeling her eyes on his bare torso.

She followed, staring at his back as he reached up to get her a cup. He turned around and she was in the wide archway between the kitchen and dining area.

"We're going to behave. Right?" she whispered.

"We're adults, Peg."

"Yes. …Isn't it _adult_ behaviour that gets people into trouble?" she replied rubbing the back of her neck in a kneading fashion. But the action made her arm push her breast inward, causing her cleavage to ride higher above the V of the neckline.

He nodded quietly, distractedly by the vision in front of him in his kitchen and sudden imaginings of following that line with his tongue. He swallowed. "That, coupled with a childish lack of foresight…into the consequences." He battled to bring his eyes up to meet hers.

They stared at each other a long moment. The air crackled with the electricity between them. "Uh, consequences," she managed. "Daniel, you're really not playing fair," she accused more forcefully.

"Oh?"

"Coming out like that, shirt off…"

"Well, my guest called for me," he replied with an innocent air. "What was I supposed to do? Ignore her? And by the way, if we're playing that game… _pot_" he gestured to her attire, her seemingly endless legs peeping out from the raised hem of his shirt over the hip with a playful wiggling finger, "calling the kettle black." His tone wasn't actually accusing, but bordering of frisky.

"Would you have preferred me wear those pants you have on?" She had meant it to be playful, that he wouldn't see her legs if she wore the sweatpants, not the other way around.

That erased the good-humoured look on his face and he became very serious. "No, no I would not." He looked down quickly at his leg and excused himself. "I'll just go finish up," he gestured to the bathroom with his thumb.

Margaret Carter watched him in silence. _I have issues, but so does he. Nothing will happen tonight until these are out in the open between us._ She turned her attention to the kettle and making a soothing cup of tea.

Perhaps for two.

He returned to the tiny room and gripped the sink briefly, before fumbling for the black t-shirt and slipping it on, cursing himself silently.

Sometimes, he could forget. It never lasted long.


	4. Issues and Common Ground

**Chapter 4 Issues and Common Ground**

Daniel returned from the bath in a better mood than when he left. He was pleased she was comfortable enough to make herself the tea and was currently enjoying it, sitting up tucked into bed, covers pulled up to her waist, pillow propped up behind her, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She looked divine, relaxed. He smiled at the vision he hoped he would get used to.

"I see you have the new Frank Sinatra album. I do hope he has not made a mistake in leaving Tommy Dorsey and going it alone. He's so talented. I like this. But it does require an adjustment in expectation doesn't it?"

"Things change," he said agreeing with her. "After going through a war, our generation knows it more than anyone, don't you think?"

"Hmmm. Yes, unfortunately," she said sipping her tea. "I took the liberty of making you one. I took a chance with the sugar and milk too, knowing how you take your coffee…"

"It's fine. Thank you. That was thoughtful," he smiled, noting the cup of tea on the side table. He awkwardly sat down in the made up chair.

She winced inwardly, watching him manoeuvre. "You're always dealing with change, aren't you?" she said as she watched him get settled. "You're very adaptable," she added on an appreciative, positive note.

"Well, what's the alternative?"

"Touché."

"Hey, that's my line!" he responded in mock offence, and sipped his tea.

"You aren't the only one who spent time in France. Learn to share," she admonished with a twinkle in her eye.

He smirked and they were easily discussing multiple topics again with great animation. Her eyes landed on the copy of the New York Post. The Nuremberg Trials were continuing with the testimony of a German foreign affairs man, von Weizsacher who detailed Nazi Germany's plan with Soviet Russia on the division of Europe.

Daniel looked disgusted. "I just don't get how some men can execute plans at that level, dividing a continent between them," he said shaking his head at them. He sighed. "Entitlement?! I guess, I was just a simple soldier. Told to do a job and I did it. You don't have time to truly work out what the man is planning upstairs as you're being shot at on a beach or from a tenement window. You're just about survival and getting your men out alive too."

"That is a luxury that I didn't have. Yes," she defended her statement at his skeptical look. "Sometimes ignorance is a luxury. Sometimes it's best not to know what they are doing so you don't have to wrestle with your conscience. I knew a few things, being in the intelligence area. First at Bletchley, then liaised with the Supreme Allied Command through the SSR." She sighed. "We did the same thing, you know. Churchill this time with Stalin, divided up Europe between them. Stalin wanted his buffer zone between him and Germany. God help them all. The lives those poor people in Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria and the rest are going to lead."

"Well, here come the five year plans, the loss of personal property, the right to voice your opinion, the right to a proper trial."

"Hmmm. I don't like the separation of Germany. No matter what's happened, it's never good to break apart a country. Nothing good will come of it. Look what happened last time."

He nodded. "There's a difference this time compared to how the Great War ended. Germany was never invaded before. Never bombed. I mean Dresden and…" He shook his head in disgust. "Damn, it's bloody awful. Did you see Oradour-Sur-Glane?"

She nodded sickened at the memory of the intelligence report. "I also saw London, first hand….no one wins."

He paused a moment, and sighed. "No winners except governments. The civilians on both sides—no one wins there." He looked at his legs and almost added the soldiers to that statement too. "I have a bad feeling about Berlin itself. I mean, I know the occupation is necessary, but too many countries are involved in that mix. And Churchill's speech in Fulton a couple months ago…" he trailed off.

"The 'iron curtain' didn't help relations any. …Say what you will about any politician, that man is a very eloquent speaker," she said. "Perhaps I should get a parrot and name him Winston."

He looked at her oddly. "And what would you teach it to say?"

"Ohhh, I think I'd like it to be a little cheeky. Let me see." She thought for a moment and then a spirited twinkle lit up her eyes. "Whenever someone says 'Can you talk?', and they always do when they see a parrot; I'd have him respond, "I can talk. Can you fly?"

"Oooh. I like that!" he smiled, impressed with her wit. He wet his index finger and made an imaginary point on an imaginary scoreboard in the air. "That's one for you."

"Thank you, sir!" she said happily flashing that smile he complimented her on earlier. But this one was even better in his estimation as it was accompanied by genuine laughter.

The hours passed between them like minutes. Both had found a kindred spirit on many topics, but opinions differed too. They disagreed amicably. They smiled and both remained loyal to their individual beliefs but respected the other's right to view things differently perhaps owing to which side of the pond they grew up.

Peggy smiled and stared at him in an assessing manner, her head tilting slightly.

"What?" He could tell the wheels were turning.

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" Ever so briefly, she thought of Steve and his fear of women for different reasons than the men in her office. They felt threatened by her for some unfathomable reason.

"I beg your pardon? Afraid?" he said as his eyebrows climbed toward his hairline and his chin dropped to his chest. "Would you mind elaborating, please?"

She yawned. "Hmmm. Poor choice of words at uh…" She checked her watch. "Two in the morning. Perhaps I mean 'intimidated'."

"How so?"

"Well, I'm a woman."

"I noticed," he said appreciatively.

She smirked briefly before continuing. "Normally, whenever I give my opinion, my beliefs, my knowledge, I'm shut down so quickly by men it spins my head. I can get on the defensive very quickly or they go on an offensive rant about my proper place in the world and…Well, you don't mind. _You_ never have. You don't mind strong, intelligent women."

He frowned. His acceptance of women seemed like a no brainer to him. "Wouldn't have it any other way. I hate it when women pretend to be dumb just to put a man at ease, or to get a man. I find it very unattractive," he explained.

"Exactly. How did you become this way? Certainly not during the war. I can't say how often I saw women belittling themselves to get ahead with men."

"Yeah," he said disparagingly. "I saw a lot of that too. And I could have easily benefitted if… you… take my meaning," he said awkwardly.

"Certainly," she replied. She felt immense pride in him all of a sudden.

"Perhaps, it stems from my mother, I don't know." He pondered a moment. "No, that's not true. That's exactly where I learned how to treat women, what to expect from women, what to require—the word is failing me right now." He sighed at the inadequacy of words. He was beginning to tire too.

"Tell me about her," she smiled.

He laughed and shook his head smiling, his face betraying the respect and incredulity he held her with. "My mother…My mother was a suffragette," he said proudly. "It might be all in that one word, I suppose. I grew up in Washington, initially and…Uh, how much do you know about the suffrage movement in this country?"

"Hmmm. Some women were very diplomatic about it, others were very militant—the younger ones, but that's about it. Much the same as in England, I gather," she said.

"Well, if you call standing on the sidewalk in front of the White House with a banner as a Silent Sentinel militant, then yes, it was militant. I think it was more so once they were arrested and sent to Occoquan Workhouse."

"Your mother was arrested!?" She sat up straighter, suddenly wide awake and overwhelmingly interested.

"No", he said amused at Peg's enthusiasm. "By the time they were standing outside the White House, she had had me and Alice Paul and Lucy Burns had ordered no mothers take that chance. She canvassed for their release, made phone calls, kept their story alive in the papers, raised funds for theirs and other women's defense. I think there's a part of her that wishes she had sacrificed as much as the unmarried women of the time, or the women who weren't mothers, or the older women who joined them. I got the feeling that she felt she was riding their coattails when she got the vote."

"Sounds to me like she did her part, and then some. It's my generation that rides their coattails and every generation of women afterwards who may have no clue how hard they fought for us to be accepted as "equal" human beings, to have the right to own property, to be tried by a jury that includes their peers, to have laws that reflect both genders. The only rights women had back then were to be punished by the law."

"Women still have a long way to go. Of that I am certain. Look how you were treated at the SSR. You had to prove yourself way more than any man. Probably will still be treated as an afterthought by anyone new in the office—until we teach them otherwise. It's disgraceful."

"Stop it! You're turning my head!" she exclaimed.

He laughed hard at her sudden exuberance and the coffee table under him slipped just enough that he fell to the floor between table and chair, his prosthetic straight up like a flagpole. He was so shocked for a moment that his mouth dropped open in silence.

"Daniel!" Peg yelled and before she knew it she succumbed to laughter at his prosthetic leg sticking straight up in the air while his other leg bent naturally over the coffee table, his ass on the floor.

For the briefest of moments, he was embarrassed that she was laughing at him. Then, he noticed his position and began laughing too. Peg was quickly crawling out of bed to get to him. Sitting down on the floor next to him, they just looked at each other a moment and burst out laughing at the situation again. She couldn't help it. She found him so cute in that moment that her arms assailed him in a warm laugh filled embrace which he happily returned, albeit one handed. A moment later, they recovered and Peg began to help him to his feet.

"Yeah, I just did that to get you over here so I could get you in my arms again," he quipped, trying for some modicum of male bravado and failing miserably at it. "No?" She looked at him like she wasn't buying it. "Yeah, I didn't think that would work."

"Hmm," she cocked her head slightly. "Maybe, it did." Suddenly, she was kissing him so deeply he could feel it in his toes. Her hands reached up to hold his head to her, firmly while his slid around her back, feeling her, holding her so completely against him.

"Enough talking," she breathed. His lips slid down her neck causing a gasp to escape from her—a sound he was determined he would hear again. And he did—only this time even more forceful and even less controlled. He was damned if he could hold in the moan she pulled from him by nibbling on his ear.

He returned the action and continued down her neck with sensuous kisses that followed the line of her open collar to where it buttoned together at her ample breasts. With great difficulty he stopped and returned to her lips, devouring her. His tongue sought hers. She opened to him immediately, their tongues dancing wildly together.

She clung to him, savouring every ounce of him in her arms, under her hands, her fingers. Her nails scraped his back through his shirt as a feral instinct seemed to take over. Both were moving toward a place of no return when they teetered and slowly descended to the bed and it felt so natural, that they were meant for this since the day they met. Peg lay underneath, enjoying the pressure of the partial weight of his body on hers. He was careful keep most of his weight on his good knee and matching elbow. But she could feel how much he wanted this, and she knew her lust was being easily communicated to him as she wrapped one leg around him and pushed her lower body up into him. There was no thinking in those few moments, just instinct. His breath hitched at the increased still clothed contact.

"Peg…" he managed.

Out of breath they pulled back and stared at each other, desire and need reflected in their eyes, before the shadow of reason descended. And if he didn't know any better, he saw fear flicker and then take over.

"Daniel," she said breathlessly. Her eyes darted about. "I… I thought this was what I…"

Disappointment and incomprehension seeped into his eyes. She didn't actually want him. He didn't understand this—the signals she was sending not 5 seconds earlier. Pain and a degree of embarrassment gripped his stomach.

"I do. I do want this. Want you," she corrected quickly. "But…I'm afraid what you'll think of me." Shame crossed her features. She looked away. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry." Her hand came up to cover her mouth.

"Shhh." He crooned to her and she felt his hand caressing her cheek and turn her face back to his. "What I'll think of you? Honestly Peg, you're the smartest woman I know. But if you can't figure out that this isn't just…that I'm falling in love with you, you're dafter than I thought."

Her heart stopped as he said those words. Her eyes became glass with unshed tears. She could empathize, truly. She was in love with him already. She knew it. But her past had proved that wasn't enough and she needed to be sure before she went any further.

"I don't think we have a problem with chemistry, and I think you care for me at least a bit or you wouldn't be here, wouldn't have come back tonight to begin with. Plus, _you_ initiated this. So, what is it, really?"

She took a deep, anxious filled breath. "I'm not…an innocent." She paused to wait for him to put what she was saying together. "I'm not a floosy, I promise, but I'm not married, never have been, but I'm not…"

"A virgin? That's what's bothering you?"

"I didn't sleep around during the war. That's not who I am," she quickly added, making it quite obvious his opinion of her did matter.

"OK." He sat up and helped her to a sitting position on the bed. Seeing as this was of particular importance to her, he decided not to make light of it, though he didn't really care. People grabbed what little happiness they could when there was death all around. He knew that. He brought his arm to cross his lap and hide the tenting of his sweatpants, though it wouldn't matter for long given the turn of events.

"Peg, I…Well, I know you were involved with Steve Rogers." She shook her head, but he didn't notice as his eyes were now on the floor, trying to keep his emotions even as he spoke of her past lover. "Believe me, Peg. It was damn hard for a man with crutch to ask you out when you had a man with a shield."

He felt her hand on his upper arm. When he looked at her, she shook her head. "No. Steve and I…we never…"

"Really? Oh…shit. Uhhh…That's none of my business."

She laughed softly at his embarrassed profanity. Then she laughed at his assumption that she fell in love _only _with the well-muscled post Project Rebirth Steve Rogers. "If you think I loved only the man in red, white, and blue…well nothing could be further from the truth. I knew Steve before the experiment. I helped train him. He was pathetic, physically. But, he was a sweet, honest, caring, loyal, moral man. And there was a war between us. It kept us apart much of the time. Our relationship was one of mutual respect, attraction, yes…but an understanding that when our part for our nation was over, we would be able to put ourselves first then." She swallowed. "That never materialized."

"I'm sorry you lost the love of your life, Peg."

"I'm sorry I lost him too…and the chance to find out if he would have been that. But now, I have to hope that he was _a love in my life_, not _of_ my life. I only knew him for three years. _I hope_ the love of my life will last considerably longer."

He smiled at that and hope ignited light a flare inside him.

"The man I speak of was my fiancé." A look of shock crossed his features. " …It was before the war. All seemed wonderful. He seemed like a man who wanted an intelligent woman who wasn't afraid to speak her mind, to share life with as an equal partner. Then pressure from his parents on him, his friends who called him the woman in the relationship. It was so…insulting," she voiced the adjective through gritted teeth. "They all felt that I should stop working as soon as we were married, that I should settle down immediately to have children and assume a 'proper' role. Suddenly, I wasn't suitable. But… thinking we were getting married, we…

"Made love," he supplied with care in his voice.

"Yes. I still don't understand how I it was so easy to turn away. Perhaps he wasn't secure enough in who he was after all. And then he broke it off." She took a deep breath, hoping Daniel would understand now why she inquired after his mother. "So, I'm not a virgin, and obviously not a proper young lady either because just looking at you tonight…all I want is to be in your arms and kiss you everywhere. And I do mean…everywhere," she said in obvious distress over her uncontrolled desire of him.

"Indeed?!" he said intrigued.

"Don't tease."

He smiled warmly, his arm coming up around her shoulders comfortingly. His shoulders began to shake a little as he chortled himself at the similarity of their situation. When she looked at him questioningly, he removed his arm and took her hand and held it.

"You think I would think less of you for having love in your life? I think it's wonderful that you have good memories, Peg. I hate it that you have bad ones to go with them, and maybe I'm a jerk for being grateful that you went through those bad times, or else you wouldn't be here with me, right now."

She collapsed into him in relief and sobbed a moment as she let out the pain of so many years bottled up inside her.

Daniel just held her.

Society's moral standards were against her but he saw so much more than the end result that her own potential mother-in-law had sniggered at.

"You OK, now?"

"Yes. Thank you. Do I look a mess?" Her mascara must be everywhere, she thought.

"I think you must have wiped your eyes earlier, because you don't look like a racoon or anything. I think most of your make up is off. And I think you look just as beautiful, younger actually. I'm not robbing the cradle here now, am I?"

"Stop!" she said laughing.

He smiled. And he held her just a little longer after the storm.

"Well, as long as we're getting things out in the open, I'm not a virgin either."

"Shocking!" she said mockingly.

"What? Shouldn't there be an equal standard for philandering men?"

"Philandering?! Uh-oh." At that she began laughing. "There ought to be, shouldn't there? But you men are expected to sow your oats, aren't you? I don't care for that assumption, I just care that when a man says something, he means it."

"Well…maybe not philandering." He swallowed, took a deep breath and began. "I was involved before the war. We were talking seriously about a future together. I bought a ring even. Was planning to pop the question, and then Pearl Harbor was attacked. We were at war. And I felt I should enlist." He swallowed tensely, muscles working evidently in his neck to rein in emotion. "I broke it off with her. Not because I didn't love her. I did, very much, but I thought she shouldn't be tied to me, if I was overseas. How long would this last? What might happen to me? She might meet some nice guy who could… actually hold her hand," he explained staring at their entwined hands. He sucked his lips inward a moment, some residual anger left over. "It wasn't really a mistake. I asked her if I could still write to her while I was gone, keep her picture with me, and when I returned, if there was a chance, then maybe…But…Well that was a little naïve, wasn't it? She tried to remain faithful to me, she said. I think she did, uh, physically, but she did meet someone even though she dropped him when she heard I was coming home."

"She tried to deal with this," he gestured to his missing limb. "But it scared her. I could tell. And things were…Well, they just weren't the same, afterwards," he finished in a whisper.

She squeezed his hand. "You…" she said as her eyes swam with unshed tears, "Are a damn good man, Daniel Sousa. Thank you for sharing this with me." She leaned into him and put her head on his shoulder and his dropped to hers.

After a moment he turned to her and after a brief hesitation, he took a chance and couldn't help the truly soft and caring look that came over him. "Do you think we can make a go of this thing between us, Peg? We've…dredged up a lot of stuff tonight. We've both got a past…"

"And we both have a future in front of us. I'd like very much if it were together, and see where it goes," she said softly.

He smiled bashfully. He reached up and caressed here cheek and slowly leaned in and kissed her meaningfully. Then they wrapped their arms around each other, emotionally spent.

"By the way, my mother would think you're the cat's meow." He felt her body shake in amusement and smiled to himself into her hair. "But she's not in this relationship and the only ones that truly matter here are you and me."

When she recovered, she added. "Thank you. And, a word to the wise?"

"Yes."

"Don't bring up your mother when we're sitting on a bed. I promise it will kill the mood in the future."

He laughed. "Point well taken!"

Now that the atmosphere was clear, it was time to address the last elephant in the room. "You don't sleep with that normally, do you?" she said indicating the prosthetic.

Daniel swallowed hard and shook his head. "Not usually, no. Not unless I'm on stakeout and I'm not usually sleeping then."

"Well then," she said matter of fact and moved in front of him, propping up his leg on the coffee table. "Take it off. That can't be comfortable to sleep with."

"I'm not sleeping."

"Oh, do get over yourself." Her hand caressed his face as she looked him directly in the eye. "I'm not afraid, Daniel. Do you think _me_ so innocent or weak that I can't handle it?"

"She wasn't weak, Peg," he said defending Sue. "She just had memories of us and dreams of a different future that I couldn't make happen anymore."

Then he just stared at her, lips parting with a realization that this was a totally different woman in front of him. "I don't think you're weak," he said softly. Suddenly, he felt he was the feeble one despite everything he'd gone through and survived.

She took matters into her own hands. "Fine then. Let's get this off you. Roll up your trouser leg. I don't know what you call those in America, jogging trousers are they?"

He froze a moment and then did as she asked. He was shaking inside the whole time, his fingers, usually quite proficient, fumbled more than usual with the buckles at the top. Suddenly, her hand was on his. Her eyes were on the buckles and she decided to undo the lower restraint as he undid the upper.

"Any more?"

"No."

"Alright." She waited for him to remove the artificial limb and she took it from him and laid it on the floor within reach. She sucked in a breath at the redness of his lower thigh. "You must be in a lot of pain, right now."

"It's nothing," he said as he covered up the stump of his thigh, lowering the pant leg.

"Do you need to do anything for it? Creams? Ointment?"

He acquiesced. "There's ointment in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror in the water closet."

"Oh, making me feel at home are you?!" she said smiling and left to get the ointment. She returned and handed it to him. "Do you normally wear that when you get home?"

"No," he said while applying the ointment. "Usually, Frankey comes off right after my blazer. To rest it and make sure this doesn't happen too often."

"Frankey?"

"Yup. Named after FDR, the top banana when we got into this whole mess."

"Well, it's better than Adolf, I'll give you that. Frankey it is."

"You enjoy codes. You'll understand when we're in public. If there's a problem with Frankey, it's easier on other people if you don't bring up the word artificial leg, or prosthetic, or peg leg."

"Hmm. I don't like that last one."

"Oh! Peg! I'm sorry. It never crossed my mind."

"Don't worry. The irony of your situation and my name won't be lost on others. We'll field a few jokes, I imagine. And, we'll think up a few nasty retorts along the way to put them in their place."

"You know, you amaze me."

"Good. Wouldn't have it any other way. Now,do you pin your trouser leg up, or leave it?"

"Pin it," he replied. Noting her curious look, he added, "The pin is in the ashtray." She retrieved it and handed it to him to follow through as he normally would.

"Thank you."

"Do you feel better?"

"Much."

She smiled at him. "Good. Now, come to bed."

His face dropped and he stared at her.

"What? I have little moral decency, remember?!"

"Uh…"

"Well, I'll be damned if you'll sleep in that chair, when there's enough room for two on here—to sleep." She walked and stood between his legs in front of him and bent down to kiss him softly. "Perhaps, we'll dream."

He stared at her a moment, gob-smacked as she would say. Then he reached up and held her face in his hands. "Together," he continued the statement and kissed her with such love.

When it was over, Peg smiled at him and grabbed his pillow and brought it to the head of the bed beside her own as he scooted backwards. They pulled up the covers together and Peg reached to turn off the lamp.

As Peg was about to lay down next to him, she leaned over him and kissed him so softly. A moment later he had her wrapped in his arms and on her back, cradled in his arms. He caressed her face gently for the priceless gift that she was to him. He kissed her softly, sensuously with true sincerity. "I love you."

She could see him in the moonlight, but it was the way he held her and the soft tone of his voice that spoke volumes of the depth of emotion he felt for her. She reached up and, raked her fingers through his luxurious hair. "I love you, too." And they kissed and kissed again.

They snuggled and fell contentedly asleep in each other's arms and dreamed the rest of the night.

oOo

A/N:

OK. Did I get enough issues covered? I know, there's too much history incorporated in here, but if they were going to spend the night talking and truly getting to know one another, then current events would be part of that. It took me a bit of time to research. I was really trying to incorporate a literal history quote of regarding Julius Caesar, "crossing the Rubicon" when they almost went for it, but just implied it instead. Kinda felt better.

One conversation that I deleted above is of Peggy's brother who, in my imagination, also lost his leg, early in the war during the Blitz. His leg was pinned and crushed by a falling building cement slab. Her experience there makes her that much stronger, but I wanted it to be just about them for now. So that's a little bit of info that I keep in mind as I'm writing her. I do imagine a future scene where Daniel and Michael Carter would meet and have quite a lot in common. But that won't be in this fic. One more chapter to go, unless I get a new idea, which often happens during morning rush hour traffic. Might be a while though, as I've got a deadline at work.

I've written M fanfics before, and trying to keep this to a T rating was a challenge when I really wanted to ramp up the steam between them and have them have sex. But, I think both should be in a totally happy place first, completely focussed on each other only, having dealt with the baggage of past relationships. Sorry to those who think Steve Rogers should be the only person from her past. But, my take on her is that she is already quite mature, nearing that terrible old title of "spinster" for any single woman at 30 back then. (Grrrrr) So I don't think that's plausible. She's too beautiful not to have attracted a few suitors along the way.

Thank you to those few who do take time to leave a comment. There are a couple others who comment as guest and I can't reply to you. But I am very grateful that you review, especially if you say which parts I've written that resonate with you. That is what helps me write, and encourages me to continue.


	5. The Morning After

Chapter 5

Peggy Carter woke slowly to the unfamiliar din coming from the street below. Sunlight streamed through the still open brown curtains, brightening the colour behind her eyelids. Things felt different, yet extremely comfortable. Suddenly, her eyes popped open and she realized where she was and noted the weight of a protective arm strewn across her stomach from behind her. Slowly, she closed her eyes, not wanting to talk just yet. Memories of a wonderful night of getting to know Daniel flooded her thoughts. A hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

She took in a lazy deep breath and stretched. Behind her she felt Daniel take in a relaxed full breath too. He read her body language, lifted his arm and moved back slightly to allow her to turn over and face him. She folded her lower arm under her, her hand now cradling her face and gazed at him happily.

"Good morning," she said.

"Good morning," he replied and leaned in to kiss her.

"Hmm. Just a peck! Morning breath!" she said alarmed.

"I don't care," he said as he smothered her with affection to squash her protest, gently pulling her body to his. She quickly succumbed to his kiss, hands slowly reaching around and holding him to her. Before releasing her, he caressed her face, his thumb gently sweeping across her cheek before he placed one more soft kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes briefly, inhaled his scent and snuggled her face even more deeply into his palm. His hand came to rest on her hip, keeping the contact.

She sighed contentedly. "That's a wonderful way to wake up," she said. "I can see the appeal of mar…of being together."

He laughed silently behind the light smirk that crossed his face. "I can see why happily married people are so reluctant to be apart too," he said taking pity on her perceived blunder. Her trepidation amused him. He was not intimidated by the thought of marriage if it was the right partner. He had been witness to a very good marriage between his parents, and he had already faced that hurdle once before even though it didn't work out.

She smiled her thanks and appreciated on a whole new level how secure this man was. "Did you sleep well?" she asked.

"Yeah. Surprisingly well."

"Meaning?"

"Well, I have a beautiful woman in my bed. It's very distracting." She smiled brightly at the compliment. "I slept well while it was dark. I forgot to close the curtains last night. When the sun came up, well, I was then too and kinda stared at you a bit."

"Ooh? Are you off your trolley?"

He looked at her strangely as he worked out that she was wondering if he was nuts. "No. I don't think so, except about you, that is. Nothing for you to worry your pretty head about."

She smiled. "You look great in the morning. Very refreshed."

"Thank you. Right back at you, kid," he said employing Humphrey Bogart's endearment for Ingrid Bergman in the movie, _Casablanca_. "And only on, what" he looked at his watch, "5 hours sleep?" That reminded him to wind his watch. She followed suit when she saw the action.

She chuckled mildly, enjoying the playful words as she wound the pin. "You saw that movie?" They both settled back to their former position, lying facing each other, his hand on her hip again. Her upper hand moved to his forearm where her fingers drew lazy circles, subconsciously looking for added contact.

"I think everybody and their sister saw it, Peg. I had completed basic, but was still State-side."

"Hmmm. I think it will be always be one of my favourite movies. So good and so true for too many who can't go back to the way things were," she said realising how much the situation, if not the specifics applied to both of them.

His head shifted, appraisingly. "Regrets?" he said a little apprehensively.

"No, my darling. Good times. Have to appreciate the people we had in our lives before for being part of those times, being a part of who we are now. Not jealous, my sweet, just…appreciative that you had happiness too." She had reflected as she fell asleep. She had not specifically assured him that it didn't bother her that he'd been in love before. Their time apart, the distance between them would be enough to hurt any relationship, let alone his injury. "I hope we can find that again in a different way."

"You know," he sighed, "We got pretty damned deep for a… 'first date'. He kept his hand on her hip, enduring the tickling sensation she was inflicting on his arm. His teeth gritted behind his lips.

"Yes. Well, we aren't the type of people to just talk about music for five hours straight. Not in our business. Time is a luxury others have." She gave him a mildly apologetic, direct look. "I had to know if it was safe to be myself first," she said of why she stopped their love making in its infancy.

"I know, Peg. I understand."

Emotion threatened her control and she really didn't want to have another moment like last night. Seizing his earlier comment, she laughed reflecting in a lighter tone. "Well, that was not a typical first date."

"True. But it wasn't exactly planned now was it?"

"Soooo, if we _did _have one like normal people, where would you take me?" she challenged, and propped her head up on her hand.

His eyes widened, suddenly on the spot. "Oh!" He looked at her, betraying mild offence she would make him use his brain so early. "Before coffee, Peg?" She smiled amused; her shoulders shook slightly with her laugh at his expense. He took in a breath and his cheeks puffed up and he slowly let the air out, bartering for time before he spoke. "Uh?...Honestly?"

"Of course. Should I be nervous, now?" she said alarmed.

He scowled briefly. "Well, I think you know." Getting her back a little, he made her do some thinking.

She thought a moment; her head quirked slightly as she remembered the radio on the way home, read his thoughts, and then laughed. "You'd take me to a baseball game, wouldn't you!?" She pushed light-heartedly at his chest quickly.

"Damn straight!" he said proudly, nodding with a grin. "What do you say?"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She looked at him, totally enthralled at how animated he had suddenly become. "I don't think I have a choice. Look how happy you are at the mere thought!"

"Yes, of course you have a choice. Don't be ridiculous. But I'd love to share it with you, why I love it so much."

"Well, am I not going next week with you and your nephew?"

"Sure! But, how about today, if you don't have any plans? Just us."

She thought a moment. "Well, I was planning to buy some wine, hoping to take advantage of your council on that, but a ball game sounds…more fun. We'll have to go by my place to pick up some clothes."

"No problem!" he said, the excitement in his voice. "Oh, do you like beer?"

"It's not my first choice, but I have no problem with beer."

"Excellent! It's part of the whole experience, you know. That and a hot dog, and popcorn…!"

"You're going to make me fat it this becomes a regular outing!"

"Oh, come on! It's your first game; you've got to experience it all!"

She was helpless against the shining smile that spread across her face at his enthrallment. "Alright! Alright!"

"Great! How about breakfast? I've got eggs, toast—well bread, fruit, coffee…"

"All the above sounds wonderful."

He looked so pleased. He leaned in to kiss her quickly, grabbed his crutch, and made his way to the kitchen to begin making breakfast while Peg made up the bed despite his protest that he'd do it later. He spied the corkscrew with the cork still on it from the night before. He thought a moment, then quickly he untwined the two and placed the cork in his pocket, and replaced the corkscrew in the drawer.

A few minutes later Peg joined him in the kitchen and they made breakfast together. The morning paper arrived and they shared coffee over it at the table.

"Well, I finally made use of my table and chairs," he said pleased. "This is nice."

"Maybe, we'll do this again. You're a good cook," she said appreciatively.

"Thank you. Eggs…not too hard," he admitted.

She smiled. "Perhaps, we can make dinner together too."

He beamed. "Sounds good."

"Hmmm. Your wine selection will deplete terribly with me around, you know."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" he said grinning and turned the page of the section he was reading then stared at her intently, just his eyes visible just above the paper, his eyebrows making little, fast mischievous climbs upwards. But the stare became penetrating.

She easily read the flirt in his voice and eyes. The pull was intense. Although there was a playful lilt to his tone, there was something serious there too. Two could play at that game. Rather than be a passive recipient, she reached over and pulled the offending barrier from his hands and then got up and squeezed herself onto his lap between him and the table as he pushed his chair back a little to make room for her. She dropped the paper behind him. She made to kiss him and then shifted provocatively just before contact so that her lips were at his ear. "It's anything and everything we want it to be," she whispered. Then she leaned back to take in the shocked look on his face. She cupped his face in one hand while the other slid around his shoulders and kissed him so deeply, he might have died happily from forgetting to breathe.

"Well, if there's one thing I really like about you…" he managed.

"Just one?!" she fake pouted.

He made a face as though it was obvious he liked a hell of a lot more, before continuing. "It's that you're not shy."

"Hmmm," she said as she nuzzled his neck. "No, I can't say…I've ever been accused of that," she managed before he grabbed her hair and manoeuvred her lips to his passionately, but not forcefully. She melted in his strong arms.

When the kiss ended, she looked him over with appreciative eyes, slightly out of breath.

"What?"

"If there is one thing I truly like about you, it's the way you hold me…"

"Oh?" His eyebrows knitted together briefly.

"I've never been held like that. You did it last night a few times, earlier, and now." She shook her head, trying to explain. "It's wonderful. It's full, it's everything you…communicate with your hands, and even your arms are so…Ok…," she said, finding this awkward. "Um…I find your arms _very_ attractive," she admitted. When you came out last night with your shirt off…" Her eyes were like saucers at the memory. "Well, I wouldn't swoon like Scarlet O'Hara. That's definitely not me. But… you make me feel so…_everything_. This is not making sense."

He simply stared at her a moment, then he couldn't resist because if he couldn't wrap both his legs around her someday, or carry her the way he wanted to bed when the time came, anything would help him know what appeals to her. He never asked this with Sue. Somehow, now he wanted to know. He was different now.

"Try," he said.

She sighed, mildly sorry she mentioned this. "Even your forearms, I feel them… up or across my back when you hold me. Your hands…When you hold my face and your thumb strokes my cheek—I really love that sensation; it makes me feel…very special. You convey so much: caring, strength, support. When we were dancing…Daniel, never doubt how good it feels. I've never been held that way. If feels incredibly, powerful, alluring," she swallowed, "Passionate, but soft and caring at the same time. I...I feel quite potty telling you this."

"Don't. It's nice to know. It's how I feel about you, Peg." Their lips sought each other again. As they kissed he couldn't help wondering why she never felt truly held if she had been engaged and even made love herself before. Perhaps it was a clue that the man was hampered by societal pressures and guilt. He pulled her closer, suddenly very protective and more understanding of her insecurity.

"You're thinking of your arms now, aren't you?"

"Well, hell! How can I not after that?!"

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything," she said discouraged. "Now you won't be natural."

"Well, I'll be damned if I don't hold you, now. Peg, it's just good to know that _what I do have…_ works for you," he finished a little sheepishly.

She looked at him highly amused and he could read the double entendre that she was taking from his statement, and she burst out laughing.

"Hey! That's not what I meant!" he countered.

She continued laughing and he couldn't help but join her. "Oh, my dear… I'm afraid I noticed last night _that_ definitely works too!"

"You're going to get yourself in trouble, here." Then he thought he should change the subject in case it really was too early for her. "I may have to find out if you're ticklish," he teased, turning the tables on her and taking the topic of conversation off his manly parts.

She jumped off his lap quick as a flash. "Oh, no you don't!" But she leaned back into him and quickly kissed his cheek. "I should go get dressed."

"No rush," he replied. He enjoyed seeing her walk about the apartment in his clothes and so relaxed.

"Hmmmm. I think I'd better hurry," she countered and slipped away from his attempted grab and slipped around the corner down the hallway. He heard her open the closet and retrieve her clothes from the night before.

Daniel sighed contentedly, smiling at no one in the room but himself. His apartment had never held so much laughter and joy in it. He felt the cork in his pocket, and pulled it out and stared at it a moment. Then he got up, retrieved the empty wine bottle and placed it above his upper row of cupboards, like a prized memory. He opened the cupboard next to the sink where he kept the brown paper grocery bags. He quickly opened the top drawer and found the scissors. Leaving all three items on the counter, he went to the small hall closet on the right next to the bathroom. In another dresser drawer, he found his Timex watch box. With a shy smile on his face, he returned to the kitchen and got to work quickly before she returned.


	6. Bridging the Gap

Chapter 6 Bridging the Gaps

Sorry for the delay. Real life got in the way—work hell, family surgery and a family friend's passing. But…

Elated!: There's going to be a Season 2 of Agent Carter! Yay!

Totally deflated!: Setting change to L.A. won't likely include the relationship they began establishing in Season 1, i.e. _Daniel_. This broke my heart, increasing the time it took me to even want to get back into writing this as a result, because the plausibility was now compromised. I like stories that deal with realism of relationships established. Now, this story's viability is in question. But, I finally decided to charge on and finish it.

Well…here goes.

oOo

Daniel made a whistling sound to himself as he eyed the spacious living room in Howard Stark's home. He was suddenly uncomfortable. If this was what Peg was used to, he couldn't deliver style like this. What saved his sanity was the recall that Peggy had lived at the Griffith. There was quite the disparity here. Something in between, he could manage easily—if it ever came to that. Something in between, _he _could be comfortable in. Not this. Certainly, _not this_.

Angie Martinelli eyed him from the hall that he assumed led to the bedrooms.

"Hello, Mr. Sousa. We meet again," she said without any particular emotion. But Daniel was sure there was a hint of measurement in her voice.

"Hello, Miss Martinelli. How are you this fine day?" he said rather cheerfully. Nothing was going to get him down. Not after the night he'd had with Peggy that was extending nicely into the day.

"I'm fine. Thank you," she said flatly. She approached the stairs to the lower level sitting room, descended with purpose and stood, arm crossed—expectantly.

Warning signals went up in Daniel's head. He has offended this girl and that wouldn't do considering she was Peg's best friend. He found her amusing, fun, and a breath of fresh air—something he assumed drew Peg to her too. There was a quick mind to her as well, despite her youth and outward appearance of superficiality at times. He often wondered how much she took in of people's behaviours. An actress after all, must have something to base the creation of their characters on.

"Uhhh, something wrong?"

"I don't really beat around the bush, so I'll say it straight out. Don't hurt her," she said pointedly. "She's been through lots. Lost a special fellow in the war. She might be vulnerable. Don't take advantage. She didn't come home last night," she said harshly. She approached him and stuck an accusing finger in his chest that made repeated angry darts in the same place as she admonished. "You better treat her right and not drag her reputation through the mud."

Daniel slowly let the serious look on his face be replaced with a disarming smile. She was protecting her friend from a possible leach. Yet she didn't say it out straight. "You don't have anything to worry about."

Still getting quite the skeptical eye from Angie, he continued. "Her reputation is still quite safe, as far as I'm concerned. We talked 'til the wee hours of the morning. Nothing inappropriate happened. We had an interesting day at work. We all went out for drinks afterwards to…relax." He shrugged lightly. "Peg and I got to talking. We shared a bottle of wine while swapping war stories, politics, lots of stuff. We got to know each other. And it was nice, really nice. Do you have a bible? Want me to swear on it?"

At that Angie Martinelli's straight face broke and she burst out laughing, unable to contain her imitation of her former landlord. She waved off the suggestion. "Ok, Danny boy! I believe you. As long as English is happy."

"That's my goal too," he replied. He looked around at the opulent room of the Stark mansion. "Enjoying your stay?"

"Oh, my, yes! It's _swell, isn't it?_ Too bad it won't be for long, just until we can find something that's practical and affordable and in a safe area. It really is very nice of Mr. Stark to let us stay here while we do."

"Yes, Peg told me. The least he could do, considering he's part of the reason you both lost your place at The Griffith."

"Hmmm. It's _not_ the biggest hardship in the world—a little far out, but I'll make do if I have to," she said with a mock tone of inconvenience. "I'm excited to stay the summer, actually—the pool is really quite nice, I have to admit, and Jarvis had it ready last week. It's not even June and look at this weather!"

"Hello, you two! I see you're keeping my beau company," Peg said from the entrance to the hallway toward her bedroom. She was wearing a flowing floral knee length skirt with blue background and white short sleeved blouse and low wedge shoes. Her hair was down, but held back off her face with combs on either side of her head. She advanced down the stairs towards Daniel; their hands immediately entwining as they stood together talking with Angie.

"Yup! Checking to see that he's good enough for you, Peg," Angie said.

Peg made an assessing gesture with her head. "He's the dog eared pages of my book." Peg smiled cheekily. "Ones worthy to come back to."

Daniel smiled. "Hmm. The penny in your loafer," he supplied with a wink, preferring to be a constant than a "return to" in her metaphor.

"Or, perhaps he's the fly in my vichyssoise," Peg countered.

Daniel scowled briefly, taking up the challenge. "And you're the ring around my collar," he came back with quickly, turning the game on her.

"Ah! The noose around my neck!" Peg matched and raised the ante.

"Ohhh. Good one!" he laughed. "I'm drawing a blank."

"Thank you, sir!" Peg said as she wet her finger and drew another point in the air.

"I still have a goose egg," he whispered sheepishly to Angie referring to his zero on their mischievous scoreboard. "I have to up my game," he said without offence.

"No, no. Your game is just fine where it is…because I'm in the lead and like to keep it that way!" Peg declared triumphantly. Daniel laughed.

Angie watched the speedy interplay between them and couldn't help but laugh. "Ok! You two are well suited to each other," she said almost exasperated and rolled her eyes. "So, you've barely been home an hour. Where are you off to now?"

"A Yankees game!" Daniel answered with enthusiasm.

"Yes. I'm going to learn all about American baseball. I'm actually looking quite forward to it. What are you up to today?"

"Actually, reading a book by the pool after reading the rental ads. Anyway, sounds like fun. Enjoy," Angie replied, smiling and genuinely happy for her friend.

"Well, I'm going to find out. Company couldn't be better," she quipped.

"I was thinking the same thing. We better get going. We'll drive to the station and take a subway in."

"Sounds like a plan to me. I'll see you later, Angie. Don't wait up." Peg went over to hug her friend. "I might stay in town tonight," she whispered. "We'll see."

Angie smiled her happiness for her friend. She had never seen Peg in such good spirits.

oOo

Daniel's pace quickened as they neared the venue of his heart, Yankee Stadium. He was especially keen to share this with Peg, with an immigrant to the country, his girl, to fresh eyes. The day was perfect, an above average 82 degrees, and partly cloudy—hinting that rain would come, perhaps tomorrow and return temperatures to normal. For now they provided some welcome shade here and there. A breeze blew Peg's hair from behind, causing her to remove the seemingly useless combs and rendering it a little messier than usual, and in his opinion, she looked more beautiful this way. She looked positively relaxed for the first time since he'd known her, and perhaps that's what made the difference. They walked toward the stadium from River Avenue.

"So, this …is Yankee Stadium!" he said with such pride and enthusiasm she couldn't help be laugh at him as her eyes swept the building.

"Well? What do you think?"

"Hmmm. Big," she said with a tease in her voice.

"Big?! Yeah, you could say that. Sweetheart," he explained, "THIS is "the house that Ruth built", "the Cathedral of Baseball!" Yeah, you could say it's… big." He smiled knowingly. She would have her socks knocked off once she saw the magnitude of the ball diamond.

"Ruth?" she queried.

"Babe Ruth! You've never heard of Babe Ruth?!"

"The name is familiar, but…"

"He changed baseball, totally," he said as his hands made a wide sweeping gesture in front of him to encompass his impact on the game. "You see," he explained as they arrived in the lineup for the ticket booth, "Ruth could hit a home run like no one's business! Before that, baseball was mostly geared towards getting a man on base, and making runs incrementally, you know, one base at a time. Granted the skills of fielding a ball, running, bunting and the rest are important, but once he came into the game, he changed baseball. It was pandemonium in there when he hit a homerun! And, seeing how fans reacted to it instead of the focus on the other skills of the game, well, the owners started looking for sluggers to fill the seats too."

"Sluggers?"

"Yeah."

"So, you got to watch this man play?"

"Yes, indeed. My father started bringing me when I was 5 to the ball park. We had just moved here. It was amazing. I think it made him feel like a New Yorker to come. He began connecting with the city. And obviously, I did too."

"And something you're doing for your nephew, next Saturday. Do you mind my asking about his father? Does he not like baseball?"

"Joey's father loved baseball." He paused. Peg didn't miss that the sentence was past tense and suddenly felt very sad that she asked. "But, uh… he died at the Bulge. So I try to help out where I can with my sister's little guy." Peg noticed his jaw muscles tense, trying not to betray the emotion that was fighting its way to the surface.

Peg put her hand on his forearm and stopped him as they walked with their tickets. "Like I said before, Daniel, you're one of the lucky ones. And, now I am."

His hand came up to cover hers briefly on his arm. He nodded silently, but his eyes betrayed briefly the degree of pain and loss his family had suffered personally from the war. The loss of his lower leg seemed nothing compared to what his sister had lost. His attention returned to their current situation which helped him to quickly recover his earlier enthusiasm that resurfaced as he opened the door and watched her reaction to the size of the place. He took a deep satisfied and invigorating breath in and a smile crossed his features. He was "home."

They entered the stadium and found their seats. Daniel began explaining the game to her overall and the nuances of the skills she should look for as she watched so she could appreciate the game on a different level. Peg's eyes were everywhere, taking it all in.

"I like the frieze. It makes such a vast expanse of space feel cozier. I'm beginning to find I enjoy the subtleties of architecture, you know. There's more variation here in America than at home, although, that might change as they rebuild after the bombings. Then again, with so much to rebuild, functionality will likely take priority over aesthetics. It will be interesting to see the changes in London when I go back." At his look of concern, she added, "To visit my family."

"Well, if that interests you—you see that section there?" She nodded following his indicating finger at the grandstand. "It wasn't there when I was a kid. That's fairly new. This city changes a lot." An idea suddenly flashed through his mind for after the game at her comment on architecture. He hoped it was something she had not experienced yet. "My dad and I used to sit mostly along the third baseline here, but a little higher up. It was great, even with a post in the way of my view," he said fondly of his memories with his father.

"Is that why you enjoy it so much? Being with your father?"

He thought for a moment. "Hmmm. I suppose it is." His eyes wandered over the ball park. "But, take a look around, Peg. What do you see?"

She was curious where he was going with this, so she followed his directions, not knowing yet what aspect he wanted her to observe. She took her time looking. A man, a couple of rows behind, made eye contact and winked with a look that made the hair on her arms stand up. She ignored him and turned back to Daniel. She settled back in her chair and responded, "Families, friends, mostly men."

"Exactly. Not only that, you see best friends. You see rich, poor. You see educated, and blue-collar, East-side and West-side. You see old, young and everything in between. There's Italian, Irish, English, Jews, Catholic, Protestant. None of that really matters _here_. _Here_, everyone has something in common that they cheer for, dream about being a part of. That's what makes it the American game. This country, this city in particular being an entry port city is made up of so many different groups. This," he gestured to the field, "Bridges the gap between them all. It gives a common ground to generations who can't speak to one another on any other subject. When DiMaggio hits a homer, none of that other stuff matters, and everyone just shares the moment."

Peg was speechless as she listened to him and why such a small, seemingly trivial thing like a baseball game, could come to mean so much more. "For a moment, I thought you were having a go at me. But I see your reasoning. I can feel what you're saying. It's everywhere, isn't it?"

"I think so."

"Well then," she said hoisting her beer up from the floor between her feet, "_Let's play ball_, indeed." She toasted the game and her boyfriend simultaneously.

He tapped his beer against hers, totally elated that he was sharing this with her. "Let's play ball," he repeated back to her and they drank together and settled back to watch the game.

Peg could feel the man behind her staring at her. A darkness shadowed her face at his vulgarity. Her shoulders rolled as if shaking off discomfort.

"What is it?" Daniel queried.

"That man, behind us, 5 o'clock, in the dark blue shirt…" She sighed visibly uncomfortable.

Daniel's eyes flitted back briefly, and noted the leering way he was eyeing Peg up from behind. "I see him. …You ah…have to deal with that often?"

"Not just me. Most women do, especially if they venture into a male dominated area, like…at work." She hadn't really wanted to bring it up, as they were having such a good time. But her skin was feeling like it was beginning to crawl.

The drunken voice from behind boomed so everyone could hear. "Women into baseball, now? Well if you want to see a man holding a piece of wood, you should see the size of my bat, honey. I'll even let you hold it," the man said loudly to his friend so Peg could hear two rows in front.

Daniel was disgusted and angry. He knew what she meant and it sickened him to see her have to fend off annoying little minded men all the time.

His hands were tensing into fists. "I know you're more than capable, but do you mind if I take care of this one?"

Peg saw his angry fists, and shook her head. "I don't want to make a scene. Let's… just enjoy the game. I'll put him in his place afterwards—unless he gets ruder with each beer. Then I'll just have to knock some sense into him," she said trying to make light of the situation.

"No scene will be made. Just one thing and that will shut him down," he said assuring her.

"What?"

"This." He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it as soon as he saw the man was watching her again. Daniel made eye contact with the man. Flexing his bicep which strained his short sleeve shirt, he kissed her hand and gave the man a deadly, daring glare. Mr. Blue Shirt immediately turned his attention to removing fake lint from his trousers and then sat back and watched the players starting to take the field.

Daniel turned his attention back to the field again, calming his anger.

"I like you, Daniel Sousa. I like you very much, indeed," Peg said with true admiration. She didn't need him to defend her. She was more than sure she could take care of the man herself if need be. But she was interested to see what he would do. As usual, Daniel could read people and disarm a situation both subtly, like now, and not so subtle, like yesterday afternoon at the bank. She had to admit, she would have _happily_ decked the man with great satisfaction.

But that wouldn't be very nice on her first date, would it?

oOo

In the next tier of seats above Daniel and Peggy, Jack Thompson spied the crutch resting beside the chair, next to the aisle stairs below. He wondered if it was Daniel's and looked for the owner. It certainly looked like him from behind, but the man was with…_a woman?_ His eyes popped in surprise. He fumbled for his binoculars and trained them on the crutch, focused them, and slowly moved to the right. Yeah, it was definitely Sousa. Daniel was in animated conversation, his hands gesturing to the field ahead of them, to the game about to begin.

The dark haired woman was looking around the stadium and returned her gaze to Daniel. "Ho-ly…shit!" He kept the binoculars on the woman a moment. He lowered them barely a second and then put them back up to his eyes again. _Peggy Carter! _She was bending down for…a beer!

Carter drinks beer?!

Carter is at a ball game?!

Carter is at a ball game, drinking beer?!

Carter is at a Yankees game, drinking beer, with Sousa?!

Carter is drinking beer with Sousa?!

Carter is with Sousa!

"Ho-ly shit!" he voiced as he watched them share a toast together and some conversation. Then Sousa took Carter's hand and brought it up to his mouth and kissed the back while looking quite pointedly at somebody behind. Their heads turned to each other, smiling, in easy, relaxed conversation. Thompson's mouth dropped. _I didn't know Carter could smile like that. _

As the shock of seeing his co-workers together on a weekend and how incredibly happy they looked, he settled back in his chair and thought a moment.

This could complicate things.

Carter was now accepted as an agent in the office. She had certainly saved his life, so had Sousa for that matter.

When had this started?

Well, for Sousa it was months ago…and he still brought evidence against her to have her arrested. Damn, that must have killed him to do it. It hurt him to send men into the diner to take her down, to hold a gun on her himself, to intimidate and interrogate her. She held her own. Sousa interrogated her too. She never faltered.

_And I don't have feelings for the woman_.

Thompson swallowed uncomfortably. Could he have done the same thing if the situation were his to deal with? He wasn't so sure. His memory started. Just yesterday, he and Sousa were being held hostage in a bank…hostage…Peggy's face had worry written all over it. Not just concern.

Hmmm. His head bobbed as he put it together. Peggy Carter had a wakeup call. Apparently, so did Sousa.

_Wait! She drove him home!_

Smoooooth, he thought with an appreciative sly smile.

oOo

Daniel stood waiting outside the ladies room on the concourse. It had been a really nice day. He and Peg had just a regular afternoon, like normal people who don't deal with nasty people trying to poison a city in their daily lives. It really was…nice, relaxing, needed, and fun. He had never brought Sue to a ball game. Suddenly, he wondered why.

"Sousa!" he heard his name called from somewhere to his right. He turned to meet the familiar unwelcome voice.

"Thompson," he nodded a greeting.

"Great game?!"

"Sure was. DiMaggio didn't disappoint, _as usual_."

"Oh, yeah, that 6th inning hit was particularly swell, wasn't it?"

"Sure was."

"Better afternoon than yesterday's."

"Very true, and I missed last night's game too—had tickets and totally forgot about it" Daniel replied. His body stiffened uncomfortably the longer he spoke to Thompson. If Peg came out while he was here, obviously fishing, what would she say? They hadn't discussed people at work knowing of their new relationship yet.

"You-uh, waiting for on a lady friend?"

"Um…yeah," he said with trepidation, trying not to let on.

"Who are you here with?" Daniel asked suddenly having difficulty thinking of Thompson with a friend, let alone a lady friend that he would share a game with.

"Mitch from the morgue, actually. Discovered we were both Yankee fans. Bought him a game. Figured it couldn't hurt to make friends with the guy. Butter him up a bit. Speed up his work for us, you know if he likes us."

Always an angle, Sousa thought as he smiled and nodded his head again in mock agreement that it was a good idea.

Peg appeared suddenly to Daniel's left. "Oh, hello Agent Thompson. How did you enjoy the game?"

Daniel watched Thompson, his surprise at seeing Peg with Daniel was not as great as it probably should have been.

_He knew._

"Great game. You and Daniel," he said leadingly... "Come here often?"

Peg guffawed. "Hardly. This is my first game. Daniel offered to explain it to me when we were discussing last night that I had never been to one before and didn't understand the lure of baseball for Americans.

Thompson nodded. "And what is your verdict?"

"Interesting. Fun, relaxing thing to do together, no matter who you are or what walk of life you are in. And lots of very naughty food!"

Both men stood gaping. "What? DiMaggio hit two homers and a third base hit in one game! That was relaxing?!"

"Well, no, not so much when he was at bat. I admit that. It certainly becomes quite charged when it's his turn to hit the ball."

"We say, "When he's at bat."" Thompson corrected her.

"Ah, yes. Sorry. Haven't got all the nuances yet. Perhaps I'll get to go to another game some time."

"I think you need to go as often as you can," Thompson said.

"Amen to that," Daniel added.

"Does Miss Martinelli like baseball?" Daniel queried.

"I never thought to ask her," Peg replied, noticing Thompson's sudden increased interest in the conversation. "How shameful of me not to have asked her to come along."

"Peg, you said you had another engagement to get to. The game finished in time for you to get there I hope?" Daniel said, trying to steer them away from Thompson.

"Yes, lovely of you to remember," she said looking at her watch.

"Well, I'll see you both on Monday," Thompson said excusing himself. He walked away, a knowing look on his face.

"So, are you and Miss Martinelli looking at a new place or taking in a show?" he said knowing Jack was in earshot still. They turned and walked in the other direction.

"Ah, sorry about that. We hadn't discussed our situation when it comes to work. I didn't expect to see Thompson." He shook his head, "In all the gin joints, in all the world…

"And all the ball parks with thousands of people, he walks into us." Peg laughed at the Casablanca reference again. "You're right. We should discuss that." They began walking to the exit. "I really think at work, we are completely professional. If people find out, then so be it; I won't deny it at all. But I don't want anyone uncomfortable around us, especially when we're out in the field. They should be able to depend on us to have their back."

"Agreed. Now, what did you really think of the game?"

She smiled at him. It was so obvious he wanted her to love the game. She liked it very much and she could see how people like them needed normalcy in their lives. "I love the hotdogs!"

His face dropped.

She laughed at him. "I already said I thought it was a lovely way to spend a day. And I meant it. I enjoyed it very much. I enjoyed the company… even more."

"You're not just saying that?"

She laughed and put him at ease. "No. I'm not just saying that to make you happy. I really did enjoy it. I hope we can do it again. But…next Saturday is out of the question, now."

The happy look on his face disappeared immediately. "Why?"

"Because, your nephew deserves your undivided attention for his first game with is uncle. I mean it. I'll tag along on another game, if I'm invited. But next Saturday, you're all his, as it should be. He needs that."

He thought for a moment, eyes cast downwards and then nodded in disappointed agreement. She was right. He looked at her feet, noting her fairly comfortable shoes and the jacket she had with her despite the warmth of the day. She will need that, he thought. "You up for more? A trip to Midtown?"

"Oh? What have you got in mind?" she said intrigued. At his non-committal look, she acquiesced. "I'm up for anything."

He smirked. "Right choice of words."

"What? How?"

"Never mind. You'll see. It's a surprise."

They took the subway to Manhattan and found a small restaurant to eat supper in before setting out on their last adventure of the day.

oOo

Standing on the viewing platform, thousands of feet above New York City, Peg was mesmerized by the view in front of her from the Empire State Building. They had waited well over an hour in the many queues and the sun was beginning to set. The sky was a mix a beautiful oranges, pinks and deep purple and blues. The lights of the city were giving off clues to the map below them. They walked around the platform and stood and looked out from the differing angles, pointing out features they recognized.

Peg snuggled in her jacket, the wind much stronger and cooler up here. Daniel put his arm around her and rubbed her arm on the far side of him. Both had a look of contentment.

"I wondered, since you hadn't seen a Yankees game yet, if you'd taken in one of the most famous landmarks of the city?"

"Believe it or not, I had not. This was a lovely idea."

"Sorry about the line-up. It's longer than it used to be."

"That's alright. It's part of the anticipation. And when you're in good company, it's even better."

"All those tourists?! Well, you're not hard to please. We can just come to Manhattan and people watch then. You're bound to be entertained."

She elbowed him. "You know who I meant." She looked up and back at the building. "The damage from the plane crash last year is repaired nicely."

"Yeah," he said and his eyes wandered up following her gaze. "Too bad they needed to put the fencing up now." The increase in suicide jumps had necessitated the new addition.

"Sad, yes. But, now, it makes this platform only for what it was meant to be—to view your magnificent city."

They turned back to the view and after a few minutes, Daniel made a decision: now with the city lights below, rather than later. "Um, there's something I've been meaning to give you." His hand went to his pocket and pulled out a small box, wrapped in brown paper.

"Daniel. Too soon for gifts, don't you think?" she said slightly alarmed. _How could he have been meaning to give me something if we have only started as a couple the night before?_

He laughed mildly. "It's not what you think, believe me! And it's not what the box says either."

She smiled with anticipation in spite of herself and unwrapped the gift. "A Timex watch box?"

"Not what's inside, remember?"

She smiled and opened the box to find the used cork from their bottle of wine the previous evening.

All of a sudden what seemed like a good idea now seemed stupid. He covered his sudden trepidation with some humour. "See? Not a watch."

She looked at it quizzically and then noticed handwriting on it. She pulled it from the well where a watch would have laid and inspected it. Finding it too dark, she took a few steps towards a wall sconce, smiling politely at the guard's curious look. Daniel followed her a few steps behind; she could feel his eyes watching her as she read it.

oOo

The 86th floor observation deck guard watched the man give the woman a small box to open. They turned and walked towards the light next to him. He shook his head.

_Damn stupid proposal. Good spot, but down on one knee, fella!_

Feeling like he would be an intrusion to this special moment, he moved away to do his rounds on the deck and gave them some privacy.

oOo

Peggy examined the cork closely noting something written on it. Up one side of the cork was Friday's date, and on the other was the type of wine they drank.

"Just a little something…to remember the start of something great, I think," he said, turning a little red though the darkness of the evening hid that from Peg.

Peg turned it over in her hands a couple of times reading it over and over again as she tried to put words to her emotions. "Are you for real?" she whispered in astonishment, having a hard time accepting he could be so thoughtful.

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he said nothing until she elaborated.

"What a fantastic idea! It's… wonderful," she finally managed. "I love it." Her arms hugged him instantly, as he enveloped her to him the way she liked, trying to add to the moment. "It's perfect," she whispered in his ear. He sank his face into her neck, enjoying her scent, and held her back just as tightly. "Can we make a collection? Put them in a wine glass?"

His smile was so wide at her enthusiasm, it was hard to break it and actually speak. He was deeply touched it meant this much to her; he was glad he took the chance. He had never had a night like that and since his accident, he felt women didn't even see him as a man as soon as he stood or walked. He had felt pity. He understood more than ever, since he lost his leg how people can look at you and not even see you. He had this in common with her experience of gender based snubbing. But Peggy Carter never once made _him_ feel that way. And their night together made him feel he was more of a human being than he'd been in almost two years.

"I think…" he said as he stroked his fingers through her hair, "We'll fill it up pretty quick," he finally replied.

"Perhaps, we'll just have to get a larger glass then."

"Well," he said holding her hand with the box in it up like a toast, "Here's to filling the glass with some great times, great company, and great wine."

"Cheers!" she said simply, and leaned in to kiss him. The kiss deepened naturally between them. They gripped each other against the coolness of the night with the sparkling lights in front of them. Their lips parted to invite more as the passion they felt for each other rose.

Realizing where they were, in public, the pulled back, short of breath. Daniel smiled, caressed her face softly and bowed his forehead against hers. "Cheers…indeed," he finally managed.

oOo

A/N:

In the future, Peg will have a little shelving piece to display the cork, entwined on a special decorative corkscrew in place beside a very large brandy snifter. It will hold their other corks of special bottles of wine shared together as well as with friends. On those corks they will add the names of the people they share them with plus the dates, though not the brand of wine as there wouldn't be enough room.

oOo

Hope you enjoyed the story. This chapter was not are revelatory as the others, but I thought they deserved a happy ending and a little fun. I'm not sure my research was complete enough in some areas in regards to the old Yankee Stadium, but hopefully I got enough right.

I will miss this relationship that was starting to bud on the show. I'll still watch, but I doubt with the same enthusiasm as before.

Now, I have to get back to completing the Nightmare Series of Harry Potter. Most of which is written, but my forte is relationships, not battles and there is a battle in it. That's what's taking me so long to publish now—fear. If I were smart, I'd just skip it and summarize what happened later. Currently, I'm not that smart! But writing Agent Carter has let me get a bit of my muse back. So, the delay was worth it.

Again, thank you for taking the time to read my story.

Lynn


End file.
